


Chimera

by nymphaea



Category: American Idol RPS
Genre: AU, Fantasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-18
Updated: 2010-09-18
Packaged: 2017-10-12 00:02:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 80,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/118606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nymphaea/pseuds/nymphaea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Congratulations," Adam said, mouth twisting up at one corner. "You are now in possession of one faerie servant. You own both my services and the benefit of my magic for a year and a day."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chimera

The slanting late-afternoon light hit the rooftops in deep golds and oranges, signaling the fast approaching sunset. Up above the Rim, the light would last for hours yet, but in the Canyon daytime was a fleeting thing. Down on the ground, the perpetual twilight that eddied in the deeper canyons between the buildings was already shading into real night, and that could mean nothing good.

Not that anything about this entire fiasco had gone down right from the minute he'd started down this road, Kris thought. Lil had tried to persuade him they'd find another way, but they both knew that was useless. When the Triad's men asked for something, you gave it to them, or else found a compelling reason to get out of South California. Permanently.

He walked along behind Mike and the fey they'd hired as their guide, keeping his eyes on the deeper shadows as they traveled. The twisting paths couldn't be called roads, despite the constant press of traffic. Unlike the semi-ordered lines of downtown LA, the buildings here just sprung up like mushrooms of wood and glass, seemingly on no grander plan than the will of their creators. New construction heaped haphazardly on old, with everything built on angles that were subtly _wrong_. Stairways spiraled up out of the middle of the walkways into nowhere, and doors opened onto brick walls. The whole thing gave off a pervading sense of creeping insanity, or at least a means of looking at the world that had nothing to do with more fragile human sensibilities. Kris had had a headache from their first hour here, and now it was a pounding agony just behind his eyes.

He heard Mike's slightly unhinged wail of laughter and dragged his eyes off the architecture long enough to see he'd fallen dangerously behind. He jogged ahead, heart thumping hard in his chest. Being down here alone was a bad idea even at noon, even in the semi-sanitized tourist areas. Getting separated from his group now, this deep into the Canyon with night falling, was tantamount to suicide.

He shouldered his way past Mike until he could walk easily beside their guide.

"It's getting late," he said. He could hear the spiraling tension in his voice and clamped down on it. There were too many things down here that could sense human fear, and worse, feed on it.

The thing beside him stopped in its rolling gate and turned its head towards him. Or at least what Kris thought of as its head. It was kind of hard to tell in a creature who as far as he could tell was made out of glued together stones and random street trash.

"Yes," it said. Its voice was surprisingly high and almost pleasant.

"Perhaps we should find shelter." He gritted his teeth, hating to admit so much vulnerability, but knowing it must be said. "Something with shields against the current."

It paused, hopefully to think this over.

Mike crowded up behind him. "Hey, man, we have more money if—"

Kris stomped backwards on Mike's foot, _hard_. Everyone knew the second rule of dealing with the fey was you kept precisely to your bargain. Any attempt to renegotiate could be taken by the fey as a renege of their deal and it would feel quite within its rights to abandon them here—and that was just best case scenario.

Once upon a time Mike would have remembered that. But that was before a certain field in northern Texas and definitely before the drugs and indulgences in less savory magic had raised the wall between the present Mike and the one who'd been before the war even further.

The first rule of bargaining with the fey was not to do it at all, but that was a rule neither of them had ever mastered.

Mike fell back, confusion all over his face. Kris put a hand on his shoulder and tried on what he hoped was a patient smile. It felt wrong on his face, but Mike must have seen something reassuring. He nodded and straightened, something like his old sense of purpose strengthening his face.

The fey had watched all this in perfect silence. It bent backwards as if to assess the dying light above and then downwards until it nearly touched the ground. It hissed sharply and drew up again.

"The currents bring ill tidings."

"Great," Kris said. "That sounds just about perfect."

"We must go," it said. "Quickly."

~*~*~*~*~

Their guide led them at a hard pace through spiraling twists between the buildings that made their former progress look straightforward. Despite the breakneck speed, it was nearly an hour before they reached their final destination. By that point it was full dark on the ground, with just the faintest light wreathing the upper heights of the tallest buildings.

The place the fey led them to was just about the strangest Kris had seen in seven years of dealing with Faerie. There in the center of a broad space between taller buildings stood a neat white house in the midst of a carefully tended lawn. No tilted walls, no oddly placed windows or ominous doors. Even in the dark, Kris could make out all these features in the nightmare shapes of the structures around it. This one was absolutely, perfectly normal. It was the kind of thing you could see back home in Conway. There was even a split rail fence draped in the fragrant canes of climbing roses, and by the front porch there was a bright patch of daisies nodding in a non-existent wind.

It was really kind of terrifying.

True, final night was only moments away and Kris could feel the rising wildness in the currents even through the heavy weight of cold iron he'd draped close to his skin that morning in preparation for their descent. Their guide stepped under the rose trellis at the border of the property and Kris had no choice but to follow. The iron charms went ice, ice cold as he stepped through, but that stopped the second he reached the lawn.

Once inside, the darkness receded instantly. It wasn't precisely day, but there was a comforting light that suffused everything. The scent of the roses was very strong.

"Sanctuary," their guide said. Kris didn't think he was imagining the relief in its voice. "It is for humans and their companions only."

Kris looked around the bright yard. He'd heard of these places, just never expected to find one here. The roses really should have given it away. It took powerful magic to establish one of these, and even the Sidhe would have trouble dislodging one once deeply rooted.

"Come," their guide said. "The garden doesn't like it when visitors linger."

Kris followed Mike inside, telling himself he was just imagining things when the daisy heads rotated to track their movement. The inside looked like a dive bar, complete with half-broken neon signs that buzzed depressingly on and off. The noise from the people crammed inside threatened to deafen him almost immediately, and he was grateful when Mike found a small table tucked away at a slight distance from the rest of the crowd.

A bored waitress with green skin and bright blue hair appeared almost immediately. Kris just pointed to the first thing on the menu and collapsed into his chair.

The weight of the currents on your mind wasn't something you could ever notice directly, except when it was suddenly gone, as of now. You'd feel something dragging at the edges of your perception, only to have it disappear when you tried to figure out what it was. But then an hour later you'd collapse, exhausted, and couldn't figure out why. And that was just in Los Angeles, where at most you'd get hit by a stray wisp off the main line. You could get used to those—after two years of living in LA Kris hardly noticed them. But the Canyon was something else again.

The Canyon lay directly in the path of the strongest source of wild magic to be found outside of true Faerie itself—the Brix-Higgins Current. The Current started out fifty miles to the north of LA at the present border of Western Faerie and poured down along the California coast and south into Mexico, where it eventually met the Gulf of California. Rumor had it that it continued on along the sea floor, and that sailors hundreds of miles to the south had spotted wild faerie parties dancing to its light beneath the waves of the Pacific.

That much uncontrolled power was something to be avoided even farther north, where the Current was supposed to be more placid. Down here closer to LA it tended to interact somewhat . . . oddly with the local plate tectonics. The Canyon itself was proof enough of that. Once upon a time the land around here hadn't differed at all from the rest of the hills around LA. But then in 1832 a small tremor had sent off echoes in the Current that rebounded back on the earth itself, building into the most serious earthquake on record. The earth had ripped open in a long jagged stretch about thirty miles south of what was then the much smaller town of Los Angeles, forming a 10 mile canyon that was half a mile deep and at least twice as wide. That was the Canyon.

"Kris," Mike said. Kris blinked and dragged himself more upright in his chair. Their guide had disappeared, but for the moment he couldn't much care.

"What are we going to do? About the _àillidh uisge_ I mean." Mike sounded worried.

The _àillidh uisge_ or, more crudely, the Shining Water. The entire reason they'd ever come to this place.

"I don't think Mr. Seacrest is going to wait for it much longer," Mike said when Kris didn't answer.

Kris dragged his hand up his face and through his hair. "No, I don't suppose he will."

Eight days ago Mr. Seacrest's assistant had called the main office at the mission asking to set up a meeting so he could come by to congratulate them on their charitable work. Of course they'd been delighted to meet him. Everyone was eternally delighted to meet Mr. Seacrest. He was the Triad's boy and, in chaotic South California, their word was the closest thing to actual law that they had.

He'd arrived in a shiny Lexus bearing Lady Abdul's shield. That told them they were to pretend this meeting was purely for pleasure's sake. It was when he came under Lord Cowell's arms that you knew you were in trouble.

He'd strolled into the main office in his shiny expensive suit and carefully maintained tan. There had been something to the sharpness of his smile that had Kris wondering if he was still entirely human. The Brix-Higgins ran only a bare ten miles east of downtown LA, and Kris had heard that living in that close proximity could change people after a decade or two. He'd seen enough evidence of that with the people Danny tended to down at the mission.

Seacrest had poured out no end of praise for "their little operation". Kris supposed some of it was even genuine. Every person they helped off the street was one less runaway teenager or broken Faerie addict to scare away the tourists and their money. Seacrest had offered them the moon—new appliances for the kitchen, a new wing with enough space for twenty additional cots. More staff. Everything that they eternally needed and never had enough of.

In return for all of this bounty, the Triad just wanted one small insignificant tithe. A vial of the distilled wild magic known as Shining Water.

Danny had agreed, smiling fatuously the whole time. Kris didn't blame him. The message was clear—they'd been left alone too long, and now they must prove their allegiance or go. It didn't matter that to be found carrying _àillidh uisge_ was one of the few capital crimes in LA. Or that the Triad could have oceans of it at their disposal with the crook of a finger.

Danny and Lil had fought with Kris for hours, but in the end they'd given in to what they'd all known from the beginning. The only place you could get what they were after was the only place more lawless than LA itself—and of the three of them, Kris was the only one who had any hope of descending down into the Canyon and returning in one piece. So Kris had called Mike, the only person of his acquaintance who was literally insane enough to know someone down here—and now here Kris sat, time running out, no convenient bottles of magic in sight, with darkness settled in outside and no way out.

"We'll figure something out. Our guide promised he'd get us to a dealer," Kris said.

Mike nodded, though he looked pretty unconvinced.

Their waitress returned with their food and two glowing, purple fizzy drinks. Kris remembered enough from his days at the Academy to know nothing served within the confines of a Sanctuary spell could harm those who passed under the rose bower—but he left the incandescent beverages to Mike.

His food looked and tasted like chicken strips and sweet potato fries. He figured it was best for everyone concerned if he pretended that's what it was.

Kris was half-way though his food when he realized Mike had stopped eating and was scanning the room. There was a remembered professional sharpness on his face that left a hollow ache in Kris's chest. It had been a while since he'd seen Mike so connected to anything.

"Do you think someone in here might be a dealer?" Mike asked.

Kris sat up sharply and looked around. The room looked packed full—there were at least a few dozen people in here and a mixed crowd it was, too. At the very least someone in this crowd should be able to point them in the right direction.

"Could be," Kris said.

Mike nodded slowly. "I'll ask around." He gave Kris a pat on the shoulder and stood. "You might as well hold down the table. I remember how much you hate crowds."

It was true, he did. He'd been used to the comfortable spaces back home. Not even the years spent in the close barracks of the Division or in claustrophobic LA had been enough to cure him of it. Once upon a time it had been Mike's element though—still was in his own way.

He watched Mike for a few minutes—the open smile, the easy way he threw gold down on the bar and ordered another round for his new "friends".

In his two years out here, he didn't think he'd ever felt so intensely, wretchedly _alone_. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, wishing he didn't feel so perfectly useless.

"Hello, Kristopher. I have been waiting for you."

The voice was low, feminine, not one he recognized. His eyes slammed open and he went for the steel blade he kept strapped to his thigh.

The bar was gone. Instead, he found himself sitting in a wild garden that stretched away into the horizon in all directions.

There was a girl sitting before him with masses of red curls and a dress made of spring leaves. Her skin was nearly the same color as the dress.

"What—how did you bring me here?"

Her face crinkled into a pout. "You walked under my bower, silly."

The roses in her hair were the same from those which had guarded the entrance.

"The Sanctuary," he said, relaxing just a little.

She clapped her hands together and smiled at him like he was a clever child who'd just performed a favorite trick.

"Do you like it?" she asked.

"It's beautiful," he said. It was only the truth. There was a conservatory back in Arkansas his mother had liked to go to. Kris used to take her there, once a year. They'd spend and afternoon walking between rooms filled with flowers. There was one room in particular—a misty rainforest filled with orchids and fragrant spice bushes. This place was like that—only _more_.

"Thank you—for protecting my friend and me, I mean. I don't know what we would have done without this place."

She nodded gravely. "Your friend will see no harm. I give you my word on that."

His breath caught in his chest. "But not me, I take it."

She shook her head. "You are needed for something else."

She reached out, touched his arm, and the landscape shifted around them.

At first he thought it was just another part of the garden, not really any different from where they started out. Then he turned—and fell back with a cry.

Before him, interrupting the lush growth of the garden, was a melting patch of rot. It wasn't the usual disease he'd seen back on his uncle's farm, but a growing black mass of reeking oily ooze that was slowly dissolving the plants around it.

" _What is that?_ "

"Someone is using magic that should never have been invented. It is tainting the currents." The Sanctuary came up beside him. There were tears welling up out of her shining green eyes. "I can heal the garden, but I can't help him."

"Help who? I'm sorry—I just don't understand what you want."

She took both his hands in hers and pressed their foreheads together. He got a sense of someone else in the garden beside them. Black hair, a flash of pale skin—a rush of laughter so uninhibited and warm you could almost feel it pouring over you like water.

"They are hurting him. He is fighting them so hard, but he can't last much longer. Not against this. No one can last against this."

"And you want _me_ to fight _that_?" He wrenched his hand away to gesture at the black writhing pool that grew even as they watched.

"It is what they are doing to him. It is what he will live in, every day, if you do not get there in time."

He pushed away from her, denial sharp. "I don't know who you think I am—I'm not special. I wouldn't know where to begin fighting that."

"They have not guarded against other humans. And you are the only one in my garden who might help."

He looked at the dying foliage, trying not to imagine what that rot would feel like creeping over his skin.

"He is getting weaker," she said. " _Please_."

The tears ran down her face even faster.

"This person—he's important to you?"

She nodded.

"And you'll protect Mike?"

"Always."

He closed his eyes. Opened them, knowing he could never live with himself if he left anyone to that nightmare. "All right."

She smiled at him, a mother's smile. A rose from her hair tumbled into her open hand and she tucked it into the front pocket of his jacket.

"So long as the rose blooms, it will help protect you. Follow the guide I will send to you. He will show you the way."

She bent forward and placed a cool kiss on his brow before he could protest again. He blinked his eyes and she was gone, the pressing noise and bustle of the bar returned.

There was a sharp tug on his jacket sleeve. He looked down to find a muskrat staring at him. Or at least what a muskrat would be if it had midnight blue fur and were the height of a moderate sized dog.

"Help," it said. The words fit oddly in its mouth as if it were unaccustomed to human speech. "Come. Help."

There were moments in life where you made choices. In that moment, hands shaking and heart still hammering in his throat, Kris chose to stand up.

Mike stopped him on the way to the door.

"There's someone out there who needs me," Kris said.

"Outside? _Now?_ Kris, that's suicide."

"I can't explain. I just—I _have_ to." He could feel it now, a physical compulsion lying on his skin like a bruise.

Mike's face twisted up. "I can't. I can't go out there. Not out there."

Kris gripped his shoulder. "No one's asking you to. Besides, someone needs to find what we came down here for, remember?"

He nodded, shoulders strengthening. "I'll get it. I won't let you down, Kris."

Looking at him, it was as if the last three years hadn't happened and he was still Sgt. Sarver, the most reliable man in the Fey Division.

Kris felt his throat tighten and had to struggle to speak around it. "I know you won't, Mike."

The muskrat tugged at him and he felt himself pulled away, the Sanctuary's urgency thrumming inside him.

The light breeze in the garden had risen to a storm wind and the daisies tossed wildly about. The black wall at the edge of the lawn held a malevolence that was more than just the simple absence of light.

Kris stopped before the bower that marked the gateway outside. No matter how much he willed it, his feet simply would not move him out into that blackness. Inside was warmth, sanity. Out there—something worse than simple danger if what he'd seen in the Sanctuary's garden was any indication.

He took one breath, two, and then lurched forward through the gate and into the lurking dark.

 

~*~*~*~*~

There were seven of them. Three by the fire, the rest circling the perimeter.

Kris huddled behind the outcropping of a building, struggling to maintain his distance from the pulse of magic around him. He needed to get a more accurate read on the situation before him, but he didn't know if he'd have the time.

The Sanctuary's guide had led him a good mile from her gates through twisting streets doubly eerie because of their sheer emptiness. The reason behind the absence of other fey had been apparent the moment he'd stepped outside. Though the Sanctuary's charm had protected him, Kris had sensed the sickly sweet rotting presence of the spell rippling through the streets, and it had grown stronger with every step. Kris thought even without his guide, he'd have been able to find this place just by following where the pollution seemed to strengthen.

The animal had left him a hundred yards back, hit by an invisible barrier that had clung to Kris but not stopped him. Now he was alone, at least seven men out there in the dark, the only things on Kris's side the element of surprise and the knives strapped to his belt and tucked into his boot.

Kris dismissed the four walking perimeter. They'd been lazy, unwatchful, talking to each other rather than doing their job. It was the three before him that posed the immediate challenge. If he didn't survive the next ten minutes the others weren't going to much matter anyway. One sat on the far side of the fire, too hidden by the light for Kris to make out. A second stood close to their prey, knife in hand. By his side stood the third holding what could only be their spellbook.

There was a fourth hanging from a chain fastened to the limbs of a dying tree. Heavy manacles circled his wrists and wrenched his body upwards in a long cruel line. That he was a fey of some sort was obvious from the way the cold iron reddened his flesh under the chains. Though his head hung too far down for Kris to make out any features, the dark hair and pale skin marked him as the Sanctuary's friend. Blood oozed in slow rivulets from beneath the manacles and more ran from symbols that had been carved into his arms and lower chest.

"You ready for another round, princess?" The man with the knife raised his blade, its surface holding a long silver gleam that had nothing to do with the flickering warmth of the firelight.

The captured fey raised his face, blue eyes narrowed. The defiance on his face held a sad, hopeless sort of bravery, but Kris could read his terror in the panicked rise and fall of his chest.

The man with the knife nodded at his companion and the magician began reading from the book before him in a harsh, guttural language that seemed to have more consonants than a human mouth should be able to form. It grated on Kris's ears and rippled through the stones beneath his feet as though reality itself were a pond into which someone had just hurled a large stone.

The knife descended, slicing a long thin line into the prisoner's skin just above his heart. The fey closed his eyes, shuddering, but didn't make a sound.

The man licked the blood from the blade, a sick kind of bliss crawling over his features.

"Delicious." He reached out to add a second line to the symbol and then a third. The fey shook with every cut but still didn't speak.

Kris took advantage of their distraction to slink further up the street, pulling the blade from his boot as he went.

"Still not ready to make noise for me?" The armed man grabbed the fey by his chin, fingers digging cruelly into his jaw and the corners of his mouth. "That's okay. You'll be screaming for me soon enough. You'll beg so pretty, won't you?"

The man by the fire laughed and joined the other two. "I bet I could make him scream." He leered at the prisoner and reached up to stroke his cheek. "Hell, you'd probably enjoy it, wouldn't you, you filthy trull?"

The man with the knife smiled, a small ugly thing, and raised the blade again. He fell with one of Kris's own knives in his throat before it lowered again.

Kris sprinted the final yards between himself and the others. He hit the magician heavily with his shoulder, yanking the spell book from his hands and hurling it into the fire. The magician stumbled after it, screaming as his sleeve caught fire.

Kris squared off against the third man. He was big, armed with a nasty serrated blade. But Kris had always been the quickest in the Division and he still had a few seconds' edge before his opponent recovered totally. He dodged under the first overly clumsy sweep, scoring a quick cut across the man's ribs. He had to dodge back almost immediately as the man brought his knife more quickly back around than Kris had thought possible.

Kris circled around, looking for an opening that never came. The man swung the knife again and Kris took a chance, darting behind his arm as it passed and slicing at the man's unguarded stomach. The man grunted, hard. Kris dodged back, but not before the serrated blade caught him across the forearm.

Kris stumbled, rhythm lost. The man followed the parry with a hard sharp kick to Kris's right knee and Kris fell forward. He rolled desperately and caught the man's boot as it descended again, yanking upwards. The man tripped and lurched backwards, falling far enough away to give Kris the space he desperately needed. He fought to his feet, knowing he'd gained seconds at most, but the expected attack never came.

The fey had swung his legs up around his captor's neck when he'd stumbled back into range and was now solidly choking him. He didn't have the angle right to kill him, but it didn't matter. Kris tightened his grip on his knife and stepped forward. The man's wheezing struggles for air heightened and he thrashed about when he spotted the knife. Stomach churning, Kris stabbed upwards and wrenched the blade across, making as quick an end of it as he could.

The fey dropped his hold on the body and watched Kris warily. Kris reached for him and he flinched backwards, eyes wide and panicked.

"We need to get you down," Kris said as gently as he could. The four at the perimeter had seemed incompetent, but it didn't take too much skill at two to one.

Kris looked up at the chain suspending the fey. The manacles hung from a hook too high for Kris to reach.

"I'm going to have to lift you," he said. The fey nodded once, jerkily. Kris wrapped his arms around the fey's legs, gritting his teeth against the burning pain in his arm as he lifted. The fey strained up to clear the hook and then collapsed in a heap, nearly taking Kris with him as he fell heavily upon the ground.

Kris reached for his arm to pull him up, but he shook his head frantically and inched away.

"I'm just trying to _help you_ ," Kris said, getting a solid grip on his bare arm at last. Cold so searing it almost burned flared up his fingers and he cried out as he fell back to his knees. The fey fluttered over him for a moment, but then his eyes widened in shock and he shoved the both of them to the ground as lightening streaked across the space where they'd been the second before.

Kris shoved the fey down behind him, violently ignoring the cold that was already slipping up past his wrist.

He heard the muttered commands of the magician from the far side of the fire. But he wasn't the source of the lightening.

A fifth figure moved into the light of the fire. Kris stared at the long golden hair and the painful beauty of his delicate features that could only mean one thing.

 _Sidhe_.

The sidhe jerked forwards, limbs uncoordinated and stilted, his eyes dead and unseeing. He was bare to the waist and there were symbols carved into his skin much like the ones on the fey Kris had rescued—only in this case the symbol over his heart looked complete. Kris's stomach rolled and he heard a sharp pained breath from the fey beside him.

The sidhe swung up his arm blindly. Lightening streaked forward again, hitting the ground a good ten yards away.

The fey beside Kris shook him hard and then pointed at the magician. The man crouched a few yards away, clutching his burned arm to his chest. He muttered something under his breath and pointed at the sidhe.

Kris scrambled away as lightening appeared, closer this time, and abruptly got the picture.

"Stay here," Kris said. The ice in his right hand had rendered it nearly useless, so Kris took his knife in his left and skirted around the fire.   
'  
But instead of staying put, the fey stood up, waived his arms and then dove towards where the other bodies lay. The sidhe swung around, nearly falling, and shuffled towards him. The fey stood up, long silver knife in hand, in time for the sidhe to wrap his arms around him in a crushing embrace and begin to squeeze.

The magician finally noticed Kris creeping around the fire.

Kris sang a quick few bars of a protection spell, hoping desperately that the Sanctuary's charm did more than protect him from the darkness polluting the currents, and leapt forward. He felt some dark form of magic hit the air in front of him and just as abruptly dissolve.

The magician, panicked now, drew a knife of his own from beneath his jacket. Kris blocked his clumsy swing with his numbing right arm and followed with a quick upward blow with the blade in his left. The magician collapsed, groaning, and Kris spun around, hoping against hope that the suicidal maniac he'd just rescued had somehow managed to keep himself alive.

The sidhe and the fey both had fallen to their knees. The sidhe's body jerked and Kris spied the long silver knife protruding from his ribs. The fey grabbed the sidhe behind the neck, bringing their heads together. Kris saw something spark in the sidhe's eyes for just a second and a small smile touched his lips before he slumped over.

The fey bent over the body of the dead sidhe, shoulders shaking. Kris touched his shoulder and he spun around, his face twisted in wild grief.

"I'm sorry," Kris said, knowing it was inadequate. "You can't know how much, but there are others here and we have to _go_."

The fey stared off into the darkness and then forced himself, limbs trembling, to his feet. He stumbled almost immediately, and Kris had to loop one arm over his shoulders, tensing against the expected cold. All that followed was the press of the other's exhausted weight, although the cold in Kris's right arm had made it to his shoulder.

"Come on," Kris said and yanked the both of them away from the fire. There were shouts behind them almost immediately. Kris pulled them down one lane, then another, knowing that safety wasn't something they were going to find in these streets. The fey beside him struggled to keep up, but he was clearly something beyond exhausted and fading quickly.

They fell sideways into a third street, the shouts behind them getting very near. Energy suddenly infused the fey beside him and Kris felt himself propelled forward. They came to one of the spiraling staircases to nowhere and the fey put his foot on the first step.

"No," Kris said, attempting to pull away. "That's suicide. We have to keep going."

But the fey just yanked him forward with surprising strength and Kris found himself stumbling upwards. They climbed stair after stair—far more than seemed possible, and Kris felt the whole structure shudder as two of the men pounded up after them.

They came to the emptiness at the top of the stairs and Kris started to turn around and prepare for some probably useless last ditch attempt at survival. But then the fey reached forward and a doorway appeared in that empty space.

Kris took the last step, practically falling through into the room beyond. The fey slammed the door behind them. It gleamed silver and then disappeared into the wall.

Kris collapsed to his knees, panting. The cold had settled into his chest and made each breath a struggle.

The fey knelt before him, eyes concerned.

"I think . . . I think I might be in trouble," Kris gasped out. The fey took Kris's face between his hands and lifted it.

He stroked a thumb across Kris's cheekbone and then bent forward to press his lips softly against Kris's. Heat blossomed in Kris's chest, dispelling the earlier cold. He fell forward into the fey's supporting arms as the heat spread through him.

"I'm sorry," the fey said into his hair. "I'm so very, very sorry."

Kris wanted to ask him what he was apologizing for, but then the heat washed up into his brain and he knew no more.

~*~*~*~*~

Kris woke with the sun on his face. He was lying in what seemed like a pretty comfortable bed, with smooth warm blankets tucked carefully around him. A quick scan of the tides of magic around him revealed no immediate sense of danger and he felt it safe to sit up. He got up slowly, gingerly testing his body for any signs of damage. He felt a bit light-headed and there was a dull ache in his arm and knee, but that was all. In the space while he'd been unconscious, someone had bandaged his arm and cleaned the blood from his hands. The strange suffocating sense of cold had gone entirely, replaced by a background feeling of glowing warmth.

He found himself in a plain if pleasant enough room, furnished only with a low table, the bed and a large wing-backed chair. There were two doors and a window, though Kris was in no great hurry to be investigating either.

The fey he'd rescued the night before was sleeping in the seat beside Kris's bed. He'd curled himself up in a defensive posture, face turned into the wing of the chair. In the light of the fire there had been something wild and untamable about him, but now he looked almost, well, human. He certainly didn't look like any fey Kris had seen before, although he'd discovered since coming out west that that didn't mean much. The more human-seeming fey ran to more delicate strength, but this one was bigger, with wide shoulders and long limbs swathed in smooth muscle. But even beneath the bruises and worse he was pretty in the way only true fey tended to be, and there was something like the impossible beauty of the sidhe in the dark fan of his eyelashes against his cheek and in the lush fullness of his mouth.

Kris remembered the press of that mouth against his--the slow brush of soft warm skin, a vague impression of broad firm hands holding him up. He felt himself flushing a little and dragged his attention away from the fey's sleeping face.

He'd cleaned himself up as well and somehow rid himself of the iron bonds. Kris could see the symbols carved into his skin more clearly now without the draping veil of blood. Except he couldn't look at them, not really. It was like his brain wouldn't let him recognize what was carved there. In the sideways glances that were all Kris could manage he saw strange twisting shapes that moved even as he watched.

The fey curled in on himself, pulling his legs even more tightly to his chest, and Kris realized he'd opened his eyes and caught Kris staring at him. The wildness was back in his face and Kris didn't think anyone would be mistaking him for human anymore.

"Hey," Kris said. He tried for reassuring, but he wasn't sure how successful he'd been.

Recognition dawned on the fey's face and he relaxed from his tightened position. He looked Kris over, concern furrowing the space between his eyes.

"Are you all right?" he asked, leaning forward. "I was getting worried."

"Yeah. I mean, I think so anyway," Kris said. Actually, he felt pretty fantastic, all things considered. "Is there a reason why I shouldn't be?"

"You lost a lot of blood," the fey said. "And I wasn't sure how successful I was at diverting the edge of that spell. You've been asleep for over twelve hours now."

Kris looked down at his arm, choosing to ignore door number two for the moment. "I didn't realize it was that deep."

"It was open to the bone," the fey said. He gestured at the arm in question. "May I?"

Kris held it up, his turn to be uncertain, but the fey just carefully unwrapped the bandage. His hands were warm and smooth and they left little whispers of heat in their wake that Kris told himself he was just imagining.

Revealed, the cut looked jagged and ugly, but far better than Kris would have expected.

"I wish I could do more," the fey said. He frowned, turning Kris's arm this way and that. Kris's arm, as it turned out, was pretty happy to go wherever he moved it. "Healing isn't really my best skill."

"So—I guess you do talk," Kris said, a little uncomfortable under the near-tangible weight of his focused attention.

"Yes."

That was helpful. "I'm Kris, by the way. In case you were wondering."

The fey gave him a strange tilted look. "You can call me Adam. You don't really have any idea what's going on, do you?"

It was a vast relief to finally admit it. "I'm going to go with no, there."

Adam sat up and ran a hand through his hair. "That spell you interrupted, it was a kind of binding."

"Yeah," Kris said, shivering a bit as he remembered the sidhe's dead-eyed shuffle from the night before. "I think I got that much."

Adam nodded. "It was keyed, in part, to my voice. If I'd begged, or cried out at all, it just would have bound the spell more tightly." He stopped, a small un-smile touching the corners of his mouth. "Their idea of a joke."

Kris reached out and gripped Adam's knee. He truly didn't understand what it was he'd stumbled into, but there were some things that were clear enough.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"It turns out it was stopped in time." Adam smiled a little then, a real smile even if wobbled a bit, and Kris found himself warming to it. "Is that something you're in the habit of doing – wandering around in the most dangerous part of the Canyon rescuing distressed fey in the middle of the night, I mean? Or am I just lucky?"

Kris took his hand back and shrugged uncomfortably. "Your friend the Sanctuary sent me."

"Oh," Adam said, startled. "And you went just because she asked?"

"Look," Kris said. He'd never particularly liked the hero role. "She showed me what they were doing to you. After that . . . I mean, no one could have left you there. Not to _that_."

"I think you might be surprised," Adam said, a small frown line appearing between his eyes.

"What was that—that coldness I felt after I touched you, I mean?" Kris said, desperate to find another topic. And he did kind of want to know what it was and how he could never, ever experience that again.

"The spell was nearly complete when you interrupted," Adam said. "When you touched me, you called some of the energy on to yourself. I couldn't stop it, so I was forced to try and change it instead."

"I'm still here, so I'm guessing you were successful?" Kris was good with anything above not dead at the moment, but Adam looked pretty unhappy.

"You'd just saved my life—more than that. I thought I could maybe satisfy the debt and close the binding spell by creating a different link between us."

"Meaning?"

"Congratulations," Adam said, mouth twisting up at one corner. "You are now in possession of one faerie servant. You own both my services and the benefit of my magic for a year and a day."

"Faerie servant? You mean like a _trull_?" Kris asked. He heard the contempt in his own voice and wasn't really able to stop it. You saw them all the time, the sexual playthings of anyone with enough to buy a faerie's service. The fashionable elite in LA were never seen without some pretty wispy thing wearing a leash and whatever bright bits of jewelry and small scraps of cloth their owner had thought to drape them in. Rumor had it that half of them sold themselves for near nothing—a string of bright beads, a box of candy, a silk designer scarf.

Adam flinched away so violently the chair nearly tipped backwards.

" _No_ ," he said, eyes narrowed to blue slits. "That is a human perversion."

Kris raised a hand to stop him, to try and apologize, but he just went on.

"But if you desire _that_ …I am bound to . . . " He shuddered, hard, and then violently clamped down on himself. "I can't fight you, if that's what you want."

"Wait, wait-- _what?_ " Kris said. " _No_ , I would _never_."

Adam had pulled himself back into his defensive huddle in the corner of the chair, knees pulled so tightly to his chest it was a wonder he could breathe. The finger shaped bruises on his mouth and neck stood out in sharp contrast to his suddenly pale skin, and now that he was looking Kris noticed what could only be bite marks on his neck and collarbone.

Kris remembered, much too late, that it was what the big man with the nasty blade had called him just the night before. There was fear plain as day beneath the anger in Adam's eyes and Kris began to feel like about twelve kinds of asshole.

"I'm sorry," he said. "That was—I didn't mean it like that."

Adam put his head down on his drawn up knees, his fingers where they dug into his linked arms going even tighter. He looked—well, about how you'd expect someone to look after they'd been chained up by a gang of sociopaths and carved up with a knife. Which was to say, pretty damn traumatized. Way to go, Allen.

"I heard them—what they were saying at the end." Kris felt oceans out of his depth, but he couldn't just leave him alone, not with this. "They didn't—they didn't hurt you did they?"

Kris had never felt so stupid in his life. Of course they'd hurt him.

"No," Adam said, raising his head. "They wanted to wait until the spell was finished."

Kris remembered the sidhe jerking about to the magician's command and thought he might be ill. He felt a sudden, vicious joy that he'd killed those men. Not just that they were dead but that _he'd killed them_. It wasn't an emotion he'd felt before, not even in all those years in the Division, but he couldn't bring himself to regret it.

"Good. That's … that's good." He looked desperately around the room for something to offer Adam and spotted a water pitcher and some glasses on the table. He got up, knowing it was a little cowardly, and poured a glass.

Adam unbent enough to take it, which was probably more than Kris deserved.

"It's not a word we use," Adam said eventually, still watching Kris from his closed-in posture.

"It's not a word anyone should use," Kris said. "I really am sorry."

Adam nodded and put the water down. He looked too tired to argue about it. "No matter what we call it, it means I am bound to you for the next year, and that might bring you some unwelcome attention."

"I think I'll survive," Kris said. Danny was really just going to _love_ this.

Adam looked out at the bright daylight streaming in the window. "We may need to get going."

"I thought we were safe here."

"Until nightfall," Adam said, lips thinning. "At that point the room will move and I can't really control where that will be."

That didn't sound too promising. Kris stood up, happy when his legs seemed fine with supporting him. He still had that banked sense of warmth running through him.

Adam got up, looming even taller now that he was no longer collapsed in on himself. "Make sure you get everything. I won't be able to open the door again once it's closed."

Kris went to pack up his things and found them neatly cleaned up and bundled by the door. The Sanctuary's rose still bloomed warm and vivid in his coat pocket. It made him feel better somehow.

Adam ran over the blank wall with searching fingertips until he found the edges of a door. It swung open underneath his hand, revealing the semi-familiar landscape of the Canyon beyond. Kris stepped beyond into the bright sunshine, feeling a little lost when he heard the door to their temporary haven close behind them. When he turned around the doorway had disappeared again and they were just standing on an empty landing.

Adam stumbled to the side and gripped the stair railing. Kris hurried over to help him but he held up a hand and Kris fell back. The symbols that had been carved into his skin twisted and convulsed in the sunlight and something black dripped from each wound only to catch fire and smoke away when it hit the stairs.

It lasted a few seconds and then stopped as quickly as it had begun. Adam panted through it, sagging against the railing the whole time. When it was done the symbols were lighter somehow and although still uncomfortable to look at had stopped their slow spinning.

Adam looked down at where they still lay on his arm and made a small hurt sound.

Oh, hell, Kris thought. He went over and looped one of Adam's arms over his shoulder, pulling tighter when he weakly protested.

"You falling over the railing would so not be helpful right now," he said. He steered them down to the relative safety of the street and sat Adam on one of the lower steps.

"This is probably a really stupid question, but are you going to be all right?"

"I thought the sun would have burned off the spell entirely," Adam said. "It's not a magic that should withstand that sort of warmth."

"Are you in danger?" Kris asked. He looked around for any sign of their earlier assailants, but the streets were empty.

Adam shook his head. "I can contain it for the moment. But I had companions—back at the site where you found me. If the spell is still active they could be trapped there."

"Is there anything you can do for them?" Kris said.

Adam gave him a surprised look. "Possibly."

"And what I felt last night—that coldness—it was just a part of the spell?"

Adam nodded, brows drown together. "If it had been anything more than just the edge of the spell I couldn't have done much about it."

Kris couldn't believe he was actually going to say this, but –

"Then we should go back."

"I can't let you do that. I'll just have to get you to safety and come back for them."

"No offense," Kris said, "but that doesn't sound like the most genius plan ever."

Adam looked stubborn, but Kris just hurried on.

"Look," he said. "I know what that spell feels like. I'm not just leaving anyone to it. If it were my friends, would you just let me leave them there?"

Adam pressed his lips together, but he did Kris the favor of really considering the question. "No, I guess not."

"Then let's go," Kris said, pulling Adam to his feet. "I'm not super excited about standing around here, either."

Adam stopped, head cocked to the side as if listening for something, and then pointed their way down the street. Last night it felt like they'd stumbled at least a mile from the fire, but it turned out to be much shorter in the light of day.

The tree still stood in the center of the square, although now it was completely dead. The bodies of the three men he'd killed lay there as well, alongside the crumpled sidhe.

There were two more lying at the base of the tree that Kris had missed the night before. They looked blackened and twisted, as if they'd been taken apart and reassembled, but wrong.

Adam's face had gone blank and closed in on itself again. Maybe dragging him back here hadn't been the most genius plan, either.

But Adam just went to the first figure at the base of the tree. He brushed the hair out of its face and Kris saw she was sidhe as well.

"They tried the spell first on her. They thought she'd be easiest." Adam's face twisted with bitter satisfaction. "They were wrong. The spell went awry before they could force her to submit."

He put his hand on her chest and closed his eyes. "She's not here."

"That's good, right?"

Adam nodded and moved to the next one. That one was so blackened Kris couldn't tell what it was. This time when Adam put his hand on its chest a glowing silver shape pushed against it. It struggled upwards, bound by the black ooze Kris had seen in the Sanctuary's garden. Adam's face tensed and then he shoved his hand even further into the pollution. It began creeping up his arm and Kris tensed, ready to pull Adam away. Adam wrenched backwards, hard, and ended up sprawled on his back with the silver shape on his chest. It resolved itself into a sleek silver wolfhound that licked Adam's face once and then paced over to sit, silent and watchful, beneath the tree.

Adam lay on his back, panting, and didn't protest when Kris put a hand on his shoulder and kept him there.

"Yeah, what the hell was that?" Kris said. "Are you trying to get yourself trapped again?

"Those men, they experimented on the others first," Adam said quietly. "If they hadn't fought so hard, the men would have finished the spell before you came and I'd have ended up like Fearghas."

This story really kept getting better. "He was the one with the lightning—at the end?"

"Yes." Adam pushed himself up against Kris's restraining hand. "He was a friend of my uncle's. I've known him my whole life. He made them try the spell on him first and he died because of it."

There wasn't anything Kris could say to that. He gripped Adam's arm when he went to move to the final body even so. "If that stuff acts up again I'm pulling you out of there, even if it means leaving your friend."

"It would probably just envelop you, too."

"Well then you'd better be careful."

"No," Adam said. "You _can't_. _I_ can't. I won't let this touch you, too."

"There's nothing you can do to stop me," Kris said, surprised at how angry he was.

"I can't leave him here. I _can't_."

"No one's asking you to."

Adam gave Kris one last pained look and went over to his friend. Kris followed, dropping down beside Adam on the ground.

Adam held his hand over the sidhe's chest, not quite touching this time. A faint glow appeared on the skin beneath his hand, but then it leached away. Adam, breathing hard now, set his shoulders and then placed his hand in direct contact. The light, golden and warm, burst forth immediately—and so did the reaching strands of the spell. They writhed up from the sidhe's chest and the symbols on Adam's arm broke into life, sending their own tendrils to join the ones below.

Kris found a free spot around Adam's waist and yanked as had as he could, but Adam couldn't move.

"Go," Adam gritted out. "Now."

Kris looked around for something, anything that could break through that blackness. He smelled a sudden burst of perfume and remembered the Sanctuary's charm. He ripped it out of his jacket pocket and then laid it on the sidhe's chest where Adam's hand was now fully bound to it. The black ropes of the spell smoked and shrank back, writhing.

Kris grabbed Adam's arm the second it was freed and pulled. Adam resisted for a moment only and then came away, golden glow in hand. The glow writhed and twisted, turning itself into a great golden eagle that carried a glowing copy of the Sanctuary's rose in its beak.

The spell fell dormant immediately.

"Go," Adam said to the gently luminescent animals. "Tell them—tell them I'm all right, that they shouldn't worry."

The wolf and eagle bowed their heads and then streaked away, both traveling nearly too fast to follow.

"Where will they go?" Kris asked, watching with a kind of muted awe.

"They will deliver their message, and then they will go back to Faerie," Adam said dully. "Our stories say they will sleep there until a time of great need when they will be called to serve again."

It was a nice story. Kris hoped it was true.

Adam reached forward with his hand again. Kris thought he seriously might punch him for being so stupid, but then he noticed movement at the sidhe's wrist. What Kris had thought was a bracelet twitched and then revealed itself as a miniature golden dragon. It unwound itself from the sidhe's arm and crawled up Adam's hand to curl itself around his wrist.

Adam cradled it into his chest, stroking its head with his other hand. Kris gripped his shoulder and then got to his feet, wanting to leave Adam at least a minute to himself.

The rest of the scene lay undisturbed and the entire square still held that breathless emptiness. Kris supposed he didn't blame the fey for not coming back here. He wondered if he ever could after what that spell seemed to have done.

He drifted a few feet further away and spotted the half-burned remains of the spellbook. He crouched down and touched the blackened leather cover. It felt cold, subtly wrong. Whatever it was, it contained a magic that had been strong enough to overcome three sidhe and whatever it was Adam actually was. Kris took a match out of his pack and carefully lit the pages, watching it this time until the whole thing was consumed.

He stood up, reeling a bit. Now that he'd lost the Sanctuary's charm the weight of the Current returned full force. It meant that they probably needed to go. The sun had already passed its zenith and he was in no mood to be repeating yesterday's mad dash through the streets in search of shelter. Impossible to think that had just been yesterday.

Adam still knelt bent over the little golden dragon. Kris struggled out of his light coat and laid it across Adam's bare shoulders. It was much too short, but Kris's shoulders were broad enough, and, well, it was better than nothing. At least Kris hoped.

"You ready to go?"

Adam shifted and got to his feet. "Thank you," he said, pulling on the coat. His gaze drifted to the chain hanging from the tree. He looked lost, completely unanchored.

Kris could empathize. He'd spent years living in what seemed just that space.

He took Adam's hand in his and gently pulled him away.

~*~*~*~*~

Kris just kept them going vaguely eastward. He could see the cliffs of the Rim rising up above the buildings in the semi-near distance. He figured if they made it there they could walk north until they hit one of the paths up to the surface.

Adam traveled along beside him in a kind of daze. Kris left him to it. He kind of had problems of his own at the moment. He was pretty sure that their guide yesterday had been keeping them from the deepest parts of the Canyon and now he was slogging through the middle. The drilling pain had started up behind his eyes almost immediately and Kris was having trouble concentrating through it.

"Wait," Adam said after Kris led them into yet another alleyway between taller buildings.

"I know you've had a pretty profoundly shitty day here, man," Kris said, "but we do need to keep going."

"Going where was my question."

Kris gestured vaguely at the cliffs to the east. "I thought I'd head for the Rim and then we'd find a pathway out."

Adam frowned. "The boundaries of this place don't tend to stay in place—particularly from the inside. I think if we just kept walking in that direction we would never get there."

Kris had feared that, actually. The borders of the Canyon were notoriously fluid. It was one of the creepier things about it. Usually it was content to stay confined within its original outlines. But then sometimes for no reason anyone could determine it would shift. It had stretched as far south as the Mexican border and reached up north halfway to Western Faerie. And on one memorable occasion in 1954 it had closed entirely for five days. When it had opened again the city and the fey were mostly still there—only twenty years older. The humans had been gone. It lent a little spice of danger to any trip down here, which is why it attracted some of the world's more adventurous tourists.

"I'm guessing you don't know where we are either."

Adam shook his head. "I don't normally come down here."

"Any suggestions?"

Adam was quiet for a minute but then he nodded, resigned to something. "We'll have to hire a guide."

Kris looked around the still-empty streets. "That might be a problem."

Adam cocked an eye-brow. "Don't worry. They advertise."

With that he knelt on the ground and shoved his hand into the dirt. It flowed around his hand like water and yielded with a slight ripple. He tilted his head to the side, moved his hand a bit and then nodded.

"There might be a possibility." He lifted his hand from the street. It came away completely clean.

"They post ads in the dirt?" Kris said, following Adam as he moved at a faster pace through the alley and into a broader avenue.

Adam boggled at him. "Obviously not. They put out threads in the Current. The trick is just to find the right one and follow it back."

Obviously.

They traveled along the avenue. Every half-mile or so Adam would stop and perform his little magic trick.

Kris was happy to let him take control for a bit. The headache was getting hard to breathe through.

He stumbled over pretty much nothing for the third time and Adam caught him with an abrupt hand on his arm.

"Something's wrong."

Kris made a vague gesture at their surroundings. "Not all of us are built for this. I'll be fine just as long as we get out of here."

Adam frowned at him. "You might have said something."

"It's not like there's anything I can do about it."

"I didn't actually mean you," Adam said, turning Kris to face him squarely.

He put his hands on Kris's face in much the same gesture as the night before. Kris's eyes fluttered closed and he felt himself leaning forward. Adam slid his hands to Kris's temples and then held one there while he reached back to massage the nape of Kris's neck with the other. Pleasure like the rising bubbles in champagne welled up inside of him and Kris felt himself just _relaxing_ all over. The headache pulsed once more and then ebbed into something tolerable. Kris opened his eyes to find Adam's face hovering above his, those perfect lips just a few inches away.

He leaned forward, stomach fluttering.

But Adam just leaned away and dropped his hands. Kris wobbled forward a bit, undone by the sudden loss of contact.

"Better?" Adam asked.

"Uh huh," Kris said, blinking. He could feel the tension starting again in his temples, but it _was_ better. Any better and he'd probably have lost the ability to stand.

Adam looked down at his hands, frowning. "My magic is a little tapped out, I think. You'll just have to stay close."

 _That_ was tapped out?

Adam took him firmly by the elbow and led them off down the street. They ran into their first group of fey of the afternoon, a trio of hobgoblins taking a smoke break beneath a large tree. The three of them ignored Adam and Kris, but Kris felt better for seeing some sign of life.

"Not that I am not grateful," Adam said. "But what _are_ you doing down here anyway? It doesn't seem to really be your scene."

"It could totally be my scene."

Adam raised an eyebrow. "No offense, but you seem a little too—" He pursed his lips and made a helpless gesture that encompassed Kris from head to toe.

"Human?" Kris offered. "Short? Dashingly heroic?"

"Plaid," Adam settled on.

Kris looked down at his plaid work shirt and plain t-shirt. "There's nothing wrong with plaid."

It's not like they could all just go around rocking leather pants and pirate boots like _some_ people. And really, for the record, Kris thought it was completely unfair that Adam was managing to pull off the whole buccaneer/Kris's too small wrinkled brown jacket combo with enough insouciance to make it look purposeful.

"Oh no, it can be a totally valid lifestyle choice," Adam said, entirely earnest. "It's just not one that tends to lead people down here."

Kris gave up. "I work for some people in LA. They were unlucky enough to attract the attention of the Triad."

Adam looked bitter. "What did they want this time – a captured sunrise? A genie's last wish?"

Kris hadn't actually known you could get those things. He didn't know if he should actually trust Adam yet, but if they really were bound for a year and a day it probably didn't matter much. "A vial of magic."

"It probably doesn't seem that way, but you got off easily then."

"You've dealt with them before?"

"In a manner of speaking," Adam said, looking unhappy at the memory. He did his little dirt reading trick again and then they were heading off in a new direction.

As they walked along the streets got more crowded until at last they'd rejoined the throng Kris remembered from the day before. From time to time Adam would lay a hand on Kris's wrist or the back of his neck and he'd get a muted sense of warmth sliding over his skin again. But it got weaker with every episode and Kris could tell Adam was getting tired. It kept the headache at bay but Kris felt his energy rapidly draining. By the time they'd walked an hour he felt like he was swimming through warm molasses.

Adam eventually just slung an arm over his shoulders and tucked him firmly against the warmth of his side. Kris took a gasped breath, head clearing in what seemed the first time in hours.

"Change in plans," Adam said, giving him a tight-lipped worried smile. "We need to get you somewhere safe."

"Can't we just go back to the Sanctuary?" Kris asked, leaning into Adam completely. He felt practically drunk. "I thought she was your friend."

Adam shook his head. "You won't be able to find her again so soon and I can't open a portal here."

They stumbled along nearly completely on Adam's energy. Kris thought he saw a few of the fey giving Adam a second, surprised look, but he wasn't sure.

They came to a store front with a vaguely familiar symbol over the door.

"Let me do the talking," Adam said. There was something Kris didn't like in his expression, but it wasn't like they had a mountain of attractive choices here.

The bell over the door rang with almost offensive cheer as they walked in. Inside lay rows and rows of shelves crammed with everything you could imagine and probably a lot of things you couldn't. A goblin frowned at something in one aisle and some large upright warthog-like thing stood in another. They both just gave Adam and Kris a bare glance and went back to their shopping.

"Sorry about this," Adam whispered. Before Kris could ask him what he meant by that he'd slipped a hand up under Kris t-shirt a send a jolt up Kris's spine so sharp it actually hurt. But it gave him a kind of caffeinated energy that let him stand on his own.

The beaded curtain behind the counter parted and the shop's proprietor stepped forward. Kris suddenly understood exactly where they were. He'd recognize a llus-gorn anywhere.

This one had shining metallic gold skin in a face of classic beauty, with glittering jewel-toned eyes and long gold hair. But they took other forms. They tended to take the shape of whatever their clients most desired—beauty, money, magic, whatever was sought and found wanting.

They were peculiar to LA and one of its biggest curses. You could, occasionally, find them dealing in everyday items like an average pawnbroker, but usually people only went to the llus-gorn when they were more desperate than that. You could go to the llus-gorn and trade the memory of your first kiss or your ability to feel the sun on your face. The fey were hungry for human experience and would pay heavily for it—though to be fair, the trade went in both directions. But the hottest selling items were the darker ones—the memory of your husband's last breath as he lay dying in the hospital or the last fading remembrances of flight from a pixie who'd lost his wings. People would go in there, thinking they were ridding themselves of their most jagged pieces, but they forgot that a llus-gorn always kept his word. They took the memories, but not the emotions that accompanied them. It left people lost in a depression they no longer had the context to understand and then had no possibility of healing.

More than a few of the people at the mission were former or current victims of the llus-gorn. Kris had sworn never to fall into that trap. He tensed, ready to protest, but Adam silenced him with a quick squeeze.

"Well, well, well," the llus-gorn said, eyeing Adam with a kind of horrible _want_. Adam went tense all along Kris's side and Kris would have given anything to be able to drag him away from that look.

"I never expected to see one of your kind here," the llus-gorn said, his sharp, dagger-like teeth flashing in a wretched facsimile of a smile.

He stepped forward, almost panting in his excitement. "I am Mikshva," he said, bowing. "How may I serve you?"

Adam impossibly tensed even further. He dropped his arm from behind Kris and stepped forward. Kris could see him take a deep breath and then he pulled off Kris's jacket, baring the knife wounds to the room.

The warthog cried out in instant anger and Kris could hear the goblin hissing. Even the llus-gorn reacted—his face going feral in rage.

"Who is responsible for this?" he spat.

"A group of humans cast the spell," Adam said. "I don't know who they were."

"Are they dead?" the goblin asked.

"The ones who wielded the knife are, but there were others."

A slow smile spread across the llus-gorn's face—a real one this time although no less horrifying. "The spell will still linger on them. You will let me hunt them, yes?"

Adam inclined his head.

The llus-gorn gave a sharp, barking command. The curtains parted again and an animal walked through.

In size and shape it most resembled a dog, but it was like no dog Kris had ever seen. Its body was covered by widely spaced green scales, with tufts of coarse green fir sticking out between. It had a long snout like certain kinds of hunting dogs, but its jaw was distended by a double row of three-inch long fangs.

Adam knelt on the floor and let the dog sniff at the marks on his arm and chest. It turned over its shoulder and gave its master a sharp yip. It whined then high in its throat and nuzzled at Adam's face. Adam wrapped his arms around its neck and buried his face in its rough fur for a moment. The other three stood over them, still nearly shaking in rage.

Kris really needed to find out more about that spell.

Adam stood up and went back over to Kris, the llus-gorn trailing.

The llus-gorn eyed him up and down. It made Kris want to take a shower or twelve.

"What do we have here?" Mikshva said, sly look on his face. He reached up to touch Kris's cheek and Kris flinched.

Adam clamped his hand on Mikshva's wrist and pulled it sharply away.

"I don't remember giving you permission to notice him," Adam said, fatigue giving way to flat anger.

"I heard that you could be this way about your . . . boys," Mikshva said, licking his lips.

"You can keep your assumptions to yourself," Adam said. "You are going to respect him, and by that I mean you are going to leave him alone."

He tightened his hold on Mikshva's wrist and the llus-gorn gasped aloud.

"Do we have an understanding here?"

Mikshva made an awkward half-bow, arm still dangling from Adam's grip.

Adam dropped his wrist. "You can wait for me in your office."

Mikshva bowed again and scuttled off behind the curtain. Adam watched him go with narrowed eyes.

"You didn't have to do that."

Adam snapped his attention back to Kris, sharp and dangerous. _Not human_ , Kris remembered.

"He's not touching you."

That was rich. "But you, you're totally on the menu, right? That's--"

"Necessary," Adam said. He held up a hand. "And that would be true even if I were alone."

He squeezed Kris's shoulder. "It's not anything I'm excited about—but there are ways of dealing with them if you know what you're doing."

"Everyone says that."

Adam raised an eyebrow. "I'm not everyone."

He left Kris standing there and went back behind the curtain.

Kris wandered down the first of the aisles, mostly to get out from the semi-pitying looks from the goblin. He'd known coming down to the Canyon was dangerous for humans. He'd just expected that most of the consequences of that to fall on himself.

The aisle was filled largely with rows upon rows of delicate crystal balls of varying size and color. Each held something that could be dimly viewed through the glass, though Kris couldn't really make out their shapes. Before each bauble sat a card, but they were largely written in a spidery language Kris didn't recognize.

He wandered over at last to the large case on the far wall. Inside were rows of vials. Kris couldn't read them either, but he didn't need to read some of them. On the second row sat a rack of clear glass tubes that held a gently glowing liquid. It could only be _àillidh uisge_. The little glass tubes looked too small and delicate to have been the source of so much trouble.

"We'll take four," Adam said over Kris's shoulder. Kris startled and spun around. Adam had found a knitted blue-black hoodie from somewhere and was carrying a few bottles of water and what looked like trail mix. But his skin had gone a bit grey and he wouldn't quite meet Kris's eyes.

 _What the hell did you do?_

Kris glared at the llus-gorn who hovered just behind Adam. He just gave Kris a reptilian smile and licked his lips.

"The _àillidh uisge_ isn't free," Mikshva said. "Though I am of course always willing to bargain."

Adam just made an impatient sound and took one of the glittering earrings from his ears. It sparkled in his palm as he held it out to the llus-gorn.

"You have worn it long?"

"Years," Adam said shortly.

The llus-gorn took a shivery in-drawn breath and plucked it from Adam's palm. And then, to Kris's undying horror, he licked it, shuddering again.

"The vials?" Adam said. The llus-gorn took a key from its pocket and opened the case.

Adam took the bottles and slid them in the pocket of his shirt.

"If you have no further needs, my associate will see you to the accommodations I have arranged," Mikshva said.

Adam nodded once.

Mikshva signaled to a hobgoblin who'd appeared through the curtain. He gave a command in some slithering language and the hobgoblin bowed in Adam's direction.

"It has been a pleasure," Mikshva said. Kris didn't think he was imagining the stress on the last word.

~*~*~*~*~

Kris lay on his back in the middle of the bed trying to pretend he was sleeping. What he was actually doing was listening to Adam trying to have his mental breakdown in silence. Adam was being mostly successful about that—but every once in a while Kris would hear these little shivering hitching breaths coming from Adam's direction that had him twisting his hands in the covers.

He'd come from the llus-gorn's store frustrated and humiliated after being bundled up against Adam and basically dragged along like an inconvenient parcel. The hobgoblin had led them to a hotel-esque place with charms on the door that had cut the Canyon's effects on Kris in half. Adam had taken care of the rest by unceremoniously dumping Kris on the bed in their suite and drawing a glowing circle on the floor around him with the _àillidh uisge_.

Adam still wouldn't tell him what he'd paid the llus-gorn. Things had gone considerably more downhill when he'd taken the long silver knife out of his boot, slashed open his own hand and drawn one of the older protection charms on the door.

Kris had been so frustrated and feeling so basically useless he hadn't bothered to protest when Adam had dragged a chair over to the doorway and announced his intention to stand guard.

"It's customary," he'd said to Kris's stony silence. "This bond between us—there are rules to it."

Kris hadn't inquired further. He hadn't _asked_ for a stupid faerie servant. And if the idiot wanted to sit in an uncomfortable chair all night when the both of them were completely fucking exhausted and could use some sleep, it was on him. Kris was done rescuing him.

So Kris hadn't felt too guilty about eating their paltry dinner and going to bed. He was _tired_ after all. It's what people who were not criminally stupid did when they were tired.

He'd stirred out of sleep about a half-hour ago, uncertain what had woken him. He'd been about ready to go back to sleep when he'd heard a half-choked breath coming from the door. He'd turned and seen Adam, shivering and pale and absolutely miserable.

Adam still sat in the chair in an inward-turned huddle, eyes shining as he stared at the things carved into his bared arm. His other hand was digging into his forearm as if it was the only way he could keep from tearing at the knife wounds.

The little golden dragon had climbed up his arm and sat perched on Adam's shoulder. Adam eventually reached up and stroked its head. It made a kind of pleased burbling noise in response, but Adam only looked blighted.

Kris knew what it was like to bury friends. His mirror had shown him that exact look for months after the war. But even though the look had faded, Kris didn't think he'd learned to deal with it so much as he'd just let it scar over.

Seven years ago he'd been in his sophomore year of college, unfocused and unsure what he wanted out of life. They'd come to his school looking to recruit human musicians for the Fey Division. The Division had been a brand new concept—one which attempted to pair the fey with humans and allowed the fey living in the east to serve in the country's armed forces for the first time in American history. He'd had the kind of vocal purity they were looking for—and, more importantly, the kind of musical improvisation skills that would make him perfect for adapting the song-spells to counter the offensive spells of the enemy.

He'd been so proud—of his country for tearing down this final barrier, of himself, of his friends who'd been selected. His parents had always been outspoken on wanting greater rights for the fey. It felt good to know he was doing something they could respect, something that would serve something larger than he was.

And it had been perfect—at first. In the first year or so, they'd all known they were there for the PR. It had all been missions like acting as a part of Queen Eilín's honor guard on her annual visit to Washington from Western Faerie or going on a disaster relief mission to Burma after an earthquake. Easy missions maybe, but Kris had still felt like they were doing good. In the second year they ended up in more routine postings in Germany and Hawaii.

It was during the second year that the first rumblings about the fey on the western borders started coming in. At first it had seemed like nothing—the fey out west had always been . . . odd. Unlike their eastern cousins they'd never attempted to assimilate, had never tried to join themselves with the human communities there. They formed their own towns—mostly dirt poor camps with little in the way basic amenities, let alone luxury. And so when they heard rumors about yet another disaffected hobgoblin complaining about fey rights to independence no one had paid any attention.

His name was Red Thistleleaf and he was anything but just another unhappy fey. It was only later, after the war started in earnest, that they'd finally learned just how wrong they were when they'd thought to unearth Thistleleaf's history. He had come over in one of the first ships from Europe. Unlike most of his fey cousins, he hadn't gone out west, instead settling in Boston and starting what became a successful import business. When the war for independence had broken out, he'd fought for his new country on the front lines. It was there where he lost his left eye and part of his left hand. Noted in many of the battlefield writings of the time for his bravery, he'd eventually risen to the rank of colonel, the only fey ever to have done so. After the war, he'd gone quietly back to Boston and had simply taken up his old business. But then had come the new property laws, each one restricting more and more of the fey's rights to purchase new land, to invest in new businesses and then, ultimately to be more than a silent partner in their own. Thistleleaf had disappeared sometime after 1800, lost to history like so many of the fey from that chapter in America's past.

Thistleleaf's plainspoken rhetoric had inspired more than just a few fringe communities in western Nebraska like originally thought. It was a movement that stretched from the Kingdom of Texas up through the plains states and into central Canada, and he'd been preparing for years. Many of the fey in the border regions were old, and they remembered the ancient, powerful magic their domesticated brethren in the east had long forgotten. Thistleleaf's first well-coordinated strikes had been devastating. In the first year, the alliance forces formed against him had lost five major conflicts.

In the end, it was simple math that won the war, if it could be called a win. The rebel fey may have been powerful, but they were few. By the second year, the alliance forces learned that carefully charmed modern weapons could cut through the strongest of Thistleleaf's defenses. His people, so long withdrawn from the modern world, didn't understand the new technologies and feared them. By the beginning of the third year, they'd won back Canada and the northern plains states. By the end of that year, Thistleleaf dead, it had all come down to one last stronghold in northern Texas. The desperate fey, mostly the very old and younger families, resorted to their strongest most terrible spells. Kris and the rest of the Division had been called in to counter them.

After three days all of the fey inside the fort were dead and so was half of the Division. Of those that survived, at least half ended up like Mike, permanently separated from their former selves. In the wake of the war, with anger at the fey at an all time high, the Division had been quietly disbanded. They'd offered him a post in the army, or even one in the State department when he'd refused, but he was done.

Kris had gone back to Arkansas, but his newly jagged edges wouldn't tamely fit into the space his old life had left. And then he'd seen Danny's ad in the newspaper—they were looking for someone to handle security and maybe the odd job. But it hadn't been the job, really, just the opportunity to escape to a place with no heroes, a place where he wouldn't look into his family's always worried faces and see a stranger looking back at him.

Texas had not been the only lonely desolate field in which Kris had left pieces of himself over the three years of the war, only the worst. He'd simply closed the door on that part of his life, only taking it out again to look at when old ghosts like Mike drifted out of history to remind him of his old obligations.

Adam made another hitched sound in the darkness and Kris lay there, still not moving. He didn't know how to help Adam. Half the time he didn't know what to do with himself. If there was a part of him that wanted to get up, put his hand on the pale vulnerable skin of Adam's nape and tell him just to come to bed, it was easily suppressed.

All he could really give Adam was the space to deal with his grief in private. He stared up at the ceiling, eyes going dry and painful, and waited.

~*~*~*~*~

They sat in the packed dirt a few feet from the edge of the cliff slumped against each other in mutual collapse. The entire Canyon lay spread out before them, its borders spreading away further than the eye could see. Looking across that vast space, Kris had the uncomfortable realization of just how big the place really was. Everyone always talked about LA like it was the biggest city on the west coast, but he wondered if that were really true—not with this space just _lurking_.

It was hard to believe it was just two days ago that he'd climbed down there with Mike. It almost felt like a different life entirely.

The trip back up had been difficult. One of Mikshva's people had come to get them just after dawn when the Current was low enough for Kris to withstand. She'd led them not to the carefully carved out stairs or lifts built for the tourists, but to a place in the cliff face with handholds hacked into the rock. Every thirty feet or so there had been a wide enough ledge for the two of them to pause just long enough to get their breath before continuing up again.

By the end all they'd been able to do was drag themselves into the meager shade of a few wilting bushes and pretty much crumple to the ground. They sat there in silence, passing the last of the water bottles between them.

A trow's head popped up over the edge of the cliff face followed by the rest of him as he cleared the ledge. He gave them a quick nod and then went waltzing off down the path, not even breathing heavily.

"Show off," Adam said, bumping at Kris's shoulder with his own.

"Seriously," Kris said, grinning up at the sky. He felt actually pretty happy. They'd made it out. Sure he was filthy and tired and was hungry enough to kill and eat an entire cow. But that could be dealt with.

"Let's go home," he said.

~*~*~*~*~

The cabbie looked back in the mirror for the third time in the last ten minutes. Kris tightened his grip on Adam's hand and silently fumed. Adam just murmured something incomprehensible and leaned more solidly into Kris. He wasn't precisely asleep, but it was kind of obvious he'd pretty much reached the end of himself.

Kris didn't know if it was the connection between them or just something peculiar to Adam himself, but he was feeling somewhat protective and those _looks_ of the guy up front weren't helping.

Cars tended to break down too close to the Canyon, so the two of them had hiked the half-mile from the ledge to the road where the taxis waited. They'd basically fallen into the first car, just wanting to be out of there. Their driver had turned around, taken one look at Kris and then at Adam—or more pointedly at Adam's bruised wrists and the finger marks on his face—and given Kris a knowing smirk. Like he thought he knew exactly why Kris had come down to that part of town and that maybe Kris would like some congratulations on his conquest.

Kris had just ostentatiously taken Adam's hand and told the guy the directions to Danny's. Adam had given him a surprised, pleased look and curled into him a bit. Most of the fey in the Division had turned to physical contact in times of emotional distress. Kris really should have remembered that yesterday. It was a pretty simple thing to do—and besides, it was kind of nice. The tingling warmth Kris associated with Adam's magic buzzed lightly in the points of contact between them and sent faint wisps up Kris's arm.

The driver took advantage of a red light to give them another furtive glance over his shoulder, licking his lips as he did it. Kris finally gave into his pettier instincts and yanked his pack to the side to reveal the knife tucked into his belt. Kris thought for a terrible moment that the guy might get even more excited but then he twitched his eyes back to the road and kept them there.

The slow grind of LA traffic at last brought them to the front gates of the complex. Adam threw about twice the amount of the fare in the cabbie's general direction and slithered out of the car. Kris had other ideas about what the creep deserved, but settled for his best glare before following Adam to the curb.

Kris punched in the access code and together they walked up the drive.

The complex before them was a sprawling hodge-podge that had kind of grown up around the main building. Lil's family had somehow acquired the old mansion back in the 30s from the predecessors to the Triad. The details had always been a little vague on that. They were the ones who'd started the program—at first it had just been a home for destitute women and children. As the project grew, new wings had been tacked on, destroying what elegance remained to the older house. Now their mission was as varied as the architecture. Mostly they offered a bed and food to whoever needed it for three day periods. But they also acted as a half-way house for the harder cases as they transitioned out of prison or rehab. Just last year Lil had charmed enough money from some of their sponsors to open up a small school and daycare so local families could afford to leave their kids somewhere safe and still work.

It was Kris's job to walk perimeter everyday to make sure no one had breached the protective spells etched into every surface of the outside walls. Other than that he supervised the small crew whose main purpose was keeping the peace on the inside. They had problem cases pretty often, but it wasn't too difficult, especially after the Division.

That might be about to change.

"Look," Kris said, grabbing Adam's arm before they reached the main door. "You really need to let me make some explanations when we get in there."

Adam just raised an eyebrow.

Kris sighed. "It's just my boss—Danny—he doesn't really like fey very much."

Adam's look became distinctly cold. "I see."

"No, you don't, so don't go making assumptions." Kris knew his frustration was making him seem angrier than he really meant to be. Adam was probably not too far off in what he was currently thinking about Danny, but, well, Danny had given Kris a new life when he'd needed it and he could be decent in ways Kris wasn't always capable of. And there was the fact that he'd known Danny for two years, not a day and a half.

"It's your house," Adam said crisply.

Yeah, this was going to be just perfect.

A quick tour found Danny in his office. A small relief there—Kris hadn't been looking forward to having this conversation in one of the common rooms.

Danny grabbed Kris the moment he walked in the room and shook him, hard.

"Where the hell have you been?" Danny said, giving him another shake. "You were due _two days ago_."

It was a measure of Danny's emotional state that he hadn't noticed Adam lurking in the doorway. It was kind of nice to be worried about, but—"You can let go of me, Danny. Something came up, is all. We have the stuff. It's fine."

"Something came up?!?!" Danny at least chose to let go of Kris's arms. His eyes flickered up to Adam and darkened. "Mike told us you'd left to go after someone. In the middle of that, that _place_ , at night."

"Mike got back okay?" Kris realized he'd been subconsciously trusting the Sanctuary to take care of him, but it was a relief to get confirmation.

Danny crossed his arms. "Yes, Mike was here. He brought the Triad's price with him. Now, what is _that_?" he asked, jerking his head in Adam's direction.

Kris risked a look back at Adam. Thankfully he was staying quiet, but the look he was giving Danny made his interactions with Mikshva seem positively affectionate.

"He's . . . Adam." It was not really a satisfactory explanation, but it was all Kris really had.

"And you risked yourself, your mission, for that? He's a—"

"They were hurting him," Kris rushed in before Danny could finish that sentence. He didn't know if Adam could actually turn someone into a frog, but that was a question best left untested.

"What the fey do to each other is none of our business. What did you expect from them? It's what they do."

"They were human," Adam snapped. "The ones who did this, they were human."

Kris turned around to discover that Adam had pulled his sleeve back to reveal the wounds on his arm. Kris had an inkling of what it cost him to show those things to people. He raised a hand, wanting to tell Adam it was okay, he didn't have to do this, but Adam went on.

"They tortured three of my friends. And then they killed them. One after another, so we could watch, so we'd know what was coming to us. They thought it was _fun_. They were _laughing_."

"Adam," Kris said, closing his hands on Adam's wrists. Adam stilled, though Kris could still feel his pulse jumping too fast beneath his skin.

"Is it true?"

Oh God. Kris just glared at Danny over his shoulder and turned back to Adam.

"I'm sorry. Really." Danny did sound sincere. Surly about it, but that was Danny for you.

Adam jerked his head, once. The perfect arrogance in the tilt of his head was vaguely familiar. A bit like the Sidhe, but not entirely.

Kris let go of Adam's wrists to pull his shirt sleeve back down. He fished in his pocket for his keys and pressed them into Adam's palm.

"I have a kind of bungalow in the back of the property. It's hard to miss. There's a shower off the bedroom and there should be some clean sweatpants at least. Okay?"

Adam hesitated a moment but then nodded. Kris waited until he'd gone off down the hallway before turning back to Danny.

"Good job, man. Seriously."

Danny at least had the grace to look apologetic. Either that or he was constipated—though Kris really thought it was the first one. "I didn't realize."

"That was pretty obvious."

"You know it's not that I want them hurt. It's just—" He fell off, gesturing lamely.

That you want them away from you, Kris thought. It wasn't anything new.

"He's going to be here for a year, so you're going to have to figure it out."

"A year!" Danny sputtered.

Kris was really too tired to be having this conversation. "Yes, a year. I saved his life. Apparently faerie servants are the customary thank you gift."

Danny just sat down heavily at his desk. Kris could live with that. "I am tired. And dirty. And _starving_. So I am going to go take care of that, not necessarily in that order. We can talk about this later."

Kris didn't even bother to wait for an answer. He wanted to give Adam some space, so he stopped in the staff locker room long enough to grab a change of clothes and a quick shower before heading to the house.

He found Adam in his kitchenette reheating the leftovers from Kris's fridge. His hair was slicked down and he was wearing a pair of Kris's sweatpants and a t-shirt. The rumpled clothes and the sight of his pale skinny ankles hanging out beneath Kris's too-short pants made him seem a lot younger.

Kris did some quick mental calculations about the last time he'd actually ordered food and decided the Chinese food Adam was dividing up wouldn't kill them.

His mother would be appalled.

Kris told himself it would have been worse to let Adam starve to death.

Afterwards Adam sat on Kris's small loveseat, knees curled into himself.

"I can just sleep here," he said uncertainly. "Or if you had a chair, I could . . . "

"Okay, no," Kris said, sitting beside him. "That's not happening. I have a bed. You might have heard of them. They're pretty awesome."

"I told you, it's customary," Adam said. "It's not the sort of thing you play around with."

"Who's playing?" Kris asked. "Look, I think we both know I fail pretty hard at this faerie master thing, so it's not like I'm going to know if we're doing it wrong. Besides, I won't get any sleep if you're torturing yourself in a chair all night, and aren't you supposed to protect me from that sort of thing?"

"I guess."

"Good."

But Adam was still sitting in that closed in posture that Kris was already beginning to dislike. He looked apologetic, like he was trying to make up for his unasked for presence in Kris's life by making himself as small as possible. Now that it had been over a day, the bruises were settling in dark and ugly on his face and neck. Kris hated it, all of it—that look on Adam's face and the scars and the damn cabbie and even Danny, just a bit.

"I can probably do something about those," Kris said, gesturing at Adam.

Adam startled and looked down at his arms. "I think these are beyond either of our abilities."

"I meant the rest of it."

"Oh." Adam gave him a small shy smile and turned towards him. "Yes—I'd like that."

He hesitated for a minute but then pulled his borrowed t-shirt over his head. There was an ugly wound on his collarbone that Kris didn't remember being there. Closer inspection revealed even puncture marks in the swollen flesh.

"Mikshva?" Kris asked, remembering those teeth. And the way the llus-gorn had looked at Adam, like he was sex and food at the same time. He couldn't imagine it, letting those teeth anywhere near you. Not after what happened two nights ago.

Adam nodded. "Blood is a bit crude, but it's our oldest and in some ways most powerful magic."

"I still don't like it."

Adam looked away. "It was the one thing I could give him that wasn't permanent."

"I know it was necessary," Kris said, touching Adam's knee to get him to turn back. "But I don't want you doing things like that in the future—not for me, okay? Not if there's another choice."

Adam's face scrunched up. "It's not like I was in a big hurry for a repeat performance."

Kris had to be satisfied with that. He sat back a bit, trying to ready himself for the healing spell. It had been a long time since he had used magic for anything like this. The people at the house had unpleasant relationships with magic in general and it wasn't often that Kris had cause to do more than strengthen the spells on the perimeter.

He let himself become aware of the familiar presence of magic coming in from the garden outside. Compared to the onrushing torrents of the Current, it was almost friendly. He sank down into his sense of it and reached for the spell that seemed most appropriate to it. He chose one of the older, simpler melodies, ornamenting it just a bit to shape the magic the way he wanted it.

He pictured it solidifying in his hands, warm and soothing. He smoothed it across Adam's wrists first, careful of the knife marks. He moved tentatively to Adam's shoulders, shifting the key a bit and adding a bit more strength to his voice as he funneled the spell into the bite mark. It resisted for a moment but then eased away under Kris's persistence.

He slid his fingers up Adam's neck, settling his hands on either side of his face. Adam's eyes fluttered shut, his ridiculous lashes brushing at Kris's thumbs as he swept them across Adam's cheekbones. His skin was warm and perfect under Kris's hands and now that the makeup was gone golden freckles stood out in stark relief against the paleness of his face. Kris lifted his hand to brush his fingers at last across Adam's lips, easing the last of the bruises. Adam took a deep breath and opened his eyes. The pupils were blown, leaving just a sliver of blue.

Kris felt himself leaning forward, aware of an all consuming _want_.

"Thank you," Adam said, voice a little rough. Kris had to tear his hands away before he did something embarrassing.

"Your voice is lovely," Adam said, still in that _voice_.

"Uh, thanks," Kris said, wiping his hands on his sweatpants. "Maybe, umm, we should go to bed? I don't know about you, but I'm beat."

Right, Allen. Going to bed with him is totally going to help.

Adam just followed Kris into the bedroom and curled up in the covers on the far side of the bed while Kris closed all the blinds.

Kris slid in beside him, completely unprepared for when Adam shimmied over, threw an arm across Kris's chest and pressed his face into Kris's shoulder.

"Um," Kris said, a little afraid Adam had picked up on his earlier difficulty.

Adam's bright magic washed across him, warm and perfect and so much stronger than before.

Kris gasped, breathing it in. He found himself standing in the middle of his uncle's orchard. It was one of those perfect fall days, the sky so very blue you could almost touch it, the air so crisp and vital you felt every part of yourself buzzing and just _alive_ with it. And there, in his hand, the year's first apple, skin glowing and golden. The taste of it was on his tongue, tart and sweet and so vivid it seemed like it could have nothing to do with those humbled globes you found on supermarket shelves.

He heard his cousins' laughter behind him and spun around. The rolling plains of home were all around him, green and gentle in the distance.

"Oh, that's _nice_ ," Adam said, curling in closer.

The vision faded from Kris's sight but remained, somehow, in a place just beneath his skin. Adam's warmth melted into him, into muscle and bone and _deeper_. Kris felt something small break inside him, part of that tightness he always carried in his chest these days. It hurt, but in a good way, in a way that left space for something else.

It had been a long time since he'd lain like this with someone—just for the physical comfort and the sheer pleasure of not being alone. It's something he and Katy had never lost—not even at the end when he was so lost to himself and she had to leave him behind or drown with him. He'd missed it more than anything else—and there had been times when he'd headed out for the night, deliberately met the laughing eyes of one of the girls in the bar and let her take him home for the night. But that had just been about blunting the edges of his skin-starvation and rarely anything like this at all.

Kris realized he'd been basically petting the smooth skin of Adam's broad back. But Adam just made a pleased snuffle against Kris's shoulder and Kris decided to allow himself the indulgence. If Adam didn't want to be manhandled, he could have stayed on his side of the bed.

It felt good, like maybe something he could get used to. Kris closed his eyes and let himself just. Breathe.

~*~*~*~*~

"Maybe not the front gate," Adam said, frowning.

Kris squinted through the bright sunlight at the large scrolling gates across the square. The very famous gates with two very large trolls standing guard and about a half-dozen bored paparazzi waiting in front of it. There really was no way they were going to go through there without attracting a whole lot of attention.

"You maybe could have mentioned that you live in the _Sidhe Embassy_ ," Kris said.

They'd left after breakfast to go and find Adam's friends. Kris had been vaguely curious about where someone like Adam could possibly come from and he hadn't been too surprised when they'd headed over to Slagtown. The hills a bit north of LA where most of the fey lived were strange enough that Kris had been too distracted to notice they were heading up to the richest part of the neighborhood where the delegation from Western Faerie had made their home.

The palace where the Los Angeles Sidhe held court was one of the marvels of the known world. Kris didn't know if such places abounded inside Faerie itself, but somehow he doubted it. It sprawled across the top of an entire hill and was big enough that you could see it from miles away. Over the top of the gleaming white wall, you could see the trees of a deep forest. Out of that rose twisting spires of marble and steel and crystal. It caught the ambient light and amplified it, reflecting the amber and coral of dawn or the silvery radiance of starlight. On clear nights sometimes you could see it from Kris's neighborhood glowing like a half-forgotten dream on the horizon.

It was easy to think it was just the darker parts of Faerie that held traps for the unwary, but this place, in its endless, heartbreaking loveliness, had probably led as many humans to ruin as a hundred of Mikshva's kind.

Adam just made a flaily dismissive gesture and pulled Kris back down the side street. "I told you there were some things I couldn't tell you until we got here."

He maybe had mentioned that.

"I don't suppose you're just the pool boy." Kris wasn't particularly hopeful on that point.

Adam actually shuddered. "With this skin?"

Kris took that as a no. They rounded a corner and headed back up along the high wall guarding the Sidhe's giant complex.

"I don't think we're going to be able to climb this wall," Kris said, eyeing the glassy surface.

"Good thing we're going to use the door. That is if I can find it." They stopped about a hundred yards in along the side wall. Adam ran his fingers over it, frowning.

"So—you live with the prince?" Kris asked, interest aroused in spite of himself. He'd never really been curious about the fey royalty except when it had been his duty to guard them. But he'd never met anyone who lived with them either.

He had the unsettling thought that Adam could be one of Ailill's rotating series of boyfriends. He didn't really like the idea for reasons he didn't quite want to examine.

Adam at last found a spot in the wall where his fingers sank in.

"Worse," Adam said, his mouth twisting into a double-edged smile. "I am the prince."

With that he grabbed Kris's arm and yanked him through the wall. The feeling of the stone passing through Kris's body was . . . disconcerting.

Kris fell through to the other side, sputtering. "Excuse me, _what_?"

"Believe me," Adam said. "That's pretty much how I feel about it, too."

"I think I need to sit down."

"Too late," Adam said.

Kris blinked and realized they were sitting on a stone bench, a garden lush enough to rival the Sanctuary's growing up all around them. Of the high stone wall there was no sign. The trees were dark and huge and like nothing that should grow in Los Angeles parched climate. He got a sense of a brooding presence emanating from the trees, something powerful and _old_.

He blinked again. The garden was still there. "How did we get here?"

"The garden rearranged itself for us." At Kris's unbelieving look Adam shrugged defensively and petted the stone bench. "It likes doing things for me."

"Because you're the prince," Kris said flatly. This . . . really just could not be happening. Even his life could not be this ridiculous.

"I like to think it's more than that," Adam sniffed.

"There wouldn't happen to be two princes, would there?" Kris asked hopefully.

"Unless something drastic has happened in the last three days, there should be four of us," Adam said. He looked apologetic, as well he should. "But I am the only one who lives here."

"So what you are telling me is that you are _Prince Ailill?_ " His first thought was that he couldn't see it. He'd never really paid attention to the goings on of LA's elite. But you'd have to be blind and deaf to live in this city and not have heard something about the media's favorite darling and whipping boy both. The Ailill Kris remembered from half a dozen tabloid covers was an exotic creature with more androgynous features and shoulder-length red-gold waves. And, oh yeah, Ailill was supposed to be Sidhe.

Except—the eyes were the same. And now that the bruises were gone from his face and Adam had finally had a full night's sleep he had Ailill's exact full-lipped prettiness.

Oh God.

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm telling you," Adam was saying. He frowned and scuffed his shoe in the dirt. "Now things are going to be _weird_."

Kris kind of wondered when Adam had thought this wasn't weird. "So I guess it isn't Adam—your name, that is."

"Adam is the name I grew up with," Adam said firmly. His mouth twisted in some inward-directed irony. "Ailill is—well, let's just say it's something I grew into."

Kris just sat there a bit dully, trying to wrap his brain around this.

"I am sorry I couldn't tell you." Adam put his hand on Kris's wrist, sweetly earnest. "It just wasn't safe."

Kris thought it was really unfair that he couldn't argue with that point.

"Your Highness!" a deep voice called through the trees.

"Here we go," Adam muttered, offering Kris a hand as he stood up. He kept his hand firmly on Kris's arm as two more troll guards came running down the path, swords drawn.

"Your Highness!" the lead guard said again, tumbling to a halt not two feet from Adam. "You have returned."

They eyed Kris uneasily but didn't say anything.

"Yes," Adam said, crisp command in his voice. "And I need to talk to Lord Baraz. Immediately."

They bowed hurriedly and led the way down the path to the larger complex.

The side hallway they entered was easily as big as Kris's whole house. They got to the base of a long circling staircase before a crowd of fey swarmed out of the main hallway and overtook them.

"Adam!" A flash of magenta streaked across the hallway and barreled into Adam, rocking him backwards.

"I'm here, baby girl," Adam said. He wrapped his arms around the young woman clutching at his chest and bent down to lay his head on her bright pink hair. "It's okay."

She burrowed deeper into him. "It's not okay. You disappeared. And Fearghas and Sean—someone killed them and we didn't even know what happened to you." She broke off, shaking her head.

"I know," Adam said quietly. "They took Ysabeau, too."

She pulled back to look up at him. Standing on tip toe, she reached up to take his face in her hands and pulled him down to rest his forehead against hers. The other fey, mostly Sidhe, shoved in around the pair of them and crowded Kris over to the wall.

The edges of the swarm parted with an abruptness that only power could bring.

Into the space swept the most beautiful Sidhe that Kris had ever seen. He was almost as tall as Adam, though without the breadth of Adam's shoulders or something of Adam's sparkle of vitality. He had rich brown skin in a face so perfect it didn't seem real. His long black hair was styled ornately in intricate braids that swept half-way down his back. The heavily embroidered robes should have seemed out of place but mostly only made everyone else look underdressed.

He looked at Adam where he still stood pressed against the pink-haired girl, frowned and then looked directly at Kris.

"There is some manner of spell connecting the prince to this human," he said, his voice touched with a rich accent Kris couldn't place. Knowing the Sidhe it was probably from a language that had been dead for centuries.

The fey all turned on Kris, eyes narrowed. This did not seem like it was going to end well.

"He is my guest," Adam said, snapping to attention. "You will respect that."

The crowd fell back from Kris a little, uncertain.

"There is something else," the new Sidhe said, looking at Kris and then Adam again. He swept over to Adam and yanked his sleeve up, baring the symbols on Adam's arm. The fey cried out and Kris was shoved up against the wall, a knife at his throat. Kris stilled. The Sidhe were particularly susceptible to musical spells, but he was out of practice and there were a lot of them.

"He killed the man who did this," Adam said. Kris couldn't see him through the sudden wall of bodies that separated them but he sounded coldly furious. "Look again, Baraz."

There was a pause, but then the fey parted enough to let Baraz through.

He raised a hand and placed two fingers on Kris's forehead. Kris tensed but all he felt was the slight buzz of his magic. It didn't have anything like the melting pleasure of Adam's but it was bearable enough.

"He did not cast the spell," Baraz said reluctantly. He nodded at the two Sidhe holding Kris and they dropped their hands.

Kris didn't waste any time pushing his way through the crowd to get over to Adam. They let him pass, but they looked universally upset and confused.

Adam looked him up and down and then relaxed infinitesimally.

"Dara and Brin," Adam said, addressing the two Sidhe who'd held Kris to the wall. "We are going to have to have a little discussion later about your inability to obey perfectly clear instructions. In the mean time, you can both meditate on what an appropriate punishment should be for threatening one of my guests. Feel free to be . . . creative."

They bowed their heads, looking chastened although possibly also a little excited. Kris decided he didn't want to know what that meant.

"There is still the spell connecting you to him," Baraz said, completely unruffled by the last exchange. "If he did not cast it that means you have bound yourself. To a human."

"The spell was nearly finished when he stopped it," Adam said. "I had no choice."

"That is not so. You could have let him die," Baraz said evenly, as if Kris wasn't standing there listening. "We would have honored his sacrifice."

"You forget who you are talking to," Adam said, silken steel back in his voice.

Baraz weighed this for a long moment but then bowed, deeply.

He rose and gestured up the stairs. "If you will follow, Highness, I think we might continue this discussion somewhere more comfortable."

Adam inclined his head and started to follow Baraz.

"No," Kris said, grabbing Adam's arm.

The fey all spun to look at him.

Oh God, Allen, what are you _doing_?

"What is it?" Adam said, quizzical but patient. "They will behave themselves now if you are worried about that."

"Those marks—from the spell. You need to get someone to get rid of them. Someone here has to be able to do that, right?"

Kris couldn't explain why it was so important, except that he'd seen what the spell looked like and he'd seen now how everyone who recognized it reacted to it.

"You shame me," Baraz murmured, faint approval softening his expression.

"The human is right," he said, stronger now. "Megan, if you will?"

A lovely woman stepped forward from the crowd. There were swirls of color up both of her arms and onto her face and her hair was spun gold. Something shifted on her back and Kris realized that she had a pair of soft brown bird's wings.

She took Adam's arm with a soft smile. "Come," she said. She led him off up the stairs, leaving the rest of them to trail in their wake.

Kris followed along, having nowhere else to go. The fey did seem appropriately chastened, but he didn't really want to risk being on his own.

The girl with pink hair came and took his arm. She looked a little older up close.

"I'm Allison," she said. "Adam wanted me to make sure you don't get lost."

"Thanks," he said, accepting her easy lead. "And it's Kris."

She leaned in conspiratorially. "The others shouldn't bother you now. They don't like making him mad—at least not _really_ mad."

They went up two staircases and down a few hallways before they came to a large suite and at last to what presumably was Adam's bedroom. It was more restrained than Kris would have suspected. There was a very large bed dressed in the cool grey of early spring rainclouds. In one corner was a large ornate dresser and a plush divan, but that was everything outside the bed.

Adam flopped on the bed and Kris hesitantly followed. Allison sat opposite, reclaiming Adam's hand.

"Some privacy, I think," Baraz said. The fey immediately began filing out, albeit reluctantly. Kris started to get off the bed, but Adam put a hand around his wrist and he settled.

Baraz came to stand by the bed. "Removing that perversion from you must take highest priority, Highness, but if there is anything you might tell me before Megan begins we could at least start our investigation."

"There was a llus-gorn, Mikshva, he tracked down the surviving humans from the group who did this," Adam said. "He probably left at least one alive to bargain with."

"I know of Mikshva," Baraz said. "We can deal with him."

He wrapped his hand around Adam's wrist, expression gentling. "I will take care of this. Be well, Highness."

"I will leave him to your care," Baraz said to Megan. He strode from the room, not acknowledging Kris in the least.

Allison moved up closer to Adam's head and Megan settled in her place, a glass jar in hand. Adam sighed and pulled his shirt over his head. Kris was pretty used to those symbols by now but they still disturbed him on a pretty primal level.

Allison gasped. "Adam," she said. "There are so many."

He smiled at her, though he looked a little tired. He reached up and took her hand, rubbing the back of it with his thumb.

"It's all right, Allie," he said. "It's almost done now, okay?"

Megan rubbed her back and she quieted, though she still looked deeply unhappy.

"It will be easier if I put you to sleep," Megan said. "It will only be for a little while, but when you wake up all of these will be gone."

He nodded and closed his eyes. Megan stroked the hair from his forehead and then pressed two fingers to his forehead. He relaxed slowly, falling at last into obvious sleep.

She began humming softly. It was a little atonal with no clear melody. Kris realized after a moment that the sound was somehow attacking the spell lying on Adam's skin, disrupting its hold in some way. She held the glass jar to Adam's arm and then held one finger above one of the symbols, not quite touching. She moved her finger in a swirling motion and the black liquid oozing from the wound unspooled and followed her motion. She lifted her hand and flicked it into the jar. She moved steadily but without hurrying from mark to mark, finishing up with the one above his heart.

She capped the jar and cut off her humming. The blackness in the jar immediately boiled and writhed but it couldn't seem to get out.

"I will get rid of this," she said. She put her hand on Allison's shoulder and patted it. "He'll be all right, now. He'll sleep for maybe a half an hour more and then you'll have him back again."

Allison nodded, but she couldn't seem to drag herself away from Adam's sleeping face. Megan just patted her shoulder again and left the room with a smile for Kris.

Allison began stroking the hair off Adam's forehead and Kris had to look away, afraid he was intruding on something.

He still couldn't understand how he'd ended up here. Just that morning he and Adam had sat on Kris's beat up old loveseat watching old cartoons and eating the last of Kris's semi-stale Froot Loops. Kris had watched, half-appalled, as Adam had fed at least half of his to his dragon. Adam had just blinked at him and told him everyone knew Inisviri dragons loved sugar before allowing the dragon to drink the last of the milk in his bowl.

Kris had been mellow and kind of all over blissed out after the best sleep he'd had in years. It was easy to sit there with Adam, even if all of Adam's opinions on Jem and the Holograms were totally wrong-headed. Adam himself, still wearing Kris's sweatpants and with his hair all mussed up and bed-headed, had seemed somehow comfortable and kind of like he belonged there.

Kris had allowed himself to think that maybe the next year wouldn't be so terrible, that it maybe could be something good. He really should have known better.

"He's like my brother, you know?" Allison said. "If they'd have finished that spell. . .if they had turned him into—I don't know what I would have done."

When he turned back to her there were tears shining in her eyes, but she was angrily fighting them back.

"You know what they were trying to do?" He didn't know if it was the right time to ask, but she was the only person in this place who seemed at all willing to talk to him.

She nodded, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. "They probably wanted him because of his magic," she said. "It's pretty rare."

"Because he's the prince?" he asked tentatively.

"Kind of—I mean, that makes it stronger," she frowned, obviously frustrated. "I don't know how to describe it to someone who's not from Faerie. I guess you could say he has control over desire."

"You mean he really is a sex god?" Kris blurted out.

She made a face at him and he felt himself flushing.

"It's what they call him!" Kris protested. This was totally not his fault.

"Oh, I know," she said, clearly amused though blushing a little herself. "It's just—I don't think of him like that. Brother, remember?"

"Yeah, sorry."

She rolled her eyes at him but went on. "It's not just _that_. It's mortal pleasure—and no, don't look at me like that. I told you this was hard."

He threw up his hands and tried to look innocent.

"It's like—you know in the winter when it rains so long and then there's that first sunny day and everything is green and perfect? It's like that. Or when you're out for a run and you just got past that first mile and your body is falling into it and you feel like you're flying?"

"It's the taste of a perfect piece of fruit," Kris said, remembering his vision from the day before.

She smiled at him. "Exactly. It changes a little for everyone, though. You get what you bring to it. Here, see."

She grabbed his hand and smacked the both of them into Adam's bare shoulder. He flinched, feeling a little guilty. But then he was there with her—the smoky dance floor, a heavy beat that reverberated up from the soles of your shoes, Adam and Allison dancing together in the crowd. Not really dancing even, just that thing you do when you're just jumping wildly around, feeling the music and the crowd in every part of you, every _molecule_.

She let go of his hand and he pulled it back. It was maybe a little creepy to be using Adam as a magic vision machine while he was sleeping there.

"Humans don't usually get it that strong—they mostly are just happy to be around him," she said. "But it's pretty powerful, being able to control what people experience, what they want."

She looked down and took Adam's hand in both of hers, lightly stroking the back of it with her fingertips. "They could have used his own magic against him. Made him want what they were doing to him. Except he'd still know—he'd still be _aware_. That's part of the reason why that spell is so bad. You're drowning in it all the time but it never completely takes you over. There's still enough left of you to _watch_."

She raised her head, eyes fierce. "He said you killed them."

"Yes," Kris said.

She jerked her head, once, eyes filling again. "Good," she said. " _Good_."

She bent to press her head against Adam's temple and placed a hand on his cheek. Kris turned away again to find a dryad hovering uncertainly in the doorway.

"I am sorry to interrupt, sir," she said softly. "But the Lord Baraz desires your presence."

Kris hesitated, instincts screaming against leaving the room.

"It's okay," Allison said. "You can trust Baraz, really."

Kris turned back at her touch.

"I'll stay here with Adam," she said. "You can go."

There didn't seem to be any polite way to argue with this. And if Baraz wanted to cause Kris harm staying here with an unconscious Adam probably wouldn't protect Kris much anyway.

He got up off the bed. Allison slid down beside Adam, throwing a protective arm across his chest. It shouldn't have made a difference. These were Adam's people, it was Adam's whole _palace_. And it wasn't like he was Kris's to protect, not really. But it still felt better leaving with Allison there.

Kris nodded at the dryad and followed her through the suite and out into the empty hallway beyond.

~*~*~*~*~

Baraz sat behind a large desk in a surprisingly modern office. He rose at Kris's entrance and inclined his head.

"Thank you for responding to my request so quickly," he said, as if Kris had had any real choice in the matter. But then the Sidhe were infamous for their love of these little games of decorum.

"We must first deal with some unpleasantness," Baraz said. He indicated the corner behind Kris with one sweep of his hand.

Kris turned around and saw a bruised and bleeding man bound to a chair with bright bands of magic. The man raised his head, eyes widening in panic when he saw Kris.

Kris couldn't help but fall back a step. The man had been one of the group standing sentry three nights ago.

"You recognize him, I see," Baraz said, coming up to stand beside Kris. "I did not expect Mikshva to be foolish enough to deceive me in this, but it is well to receive confirmation."

"He was one of the ones who guarded the perimeter," Kris said. The words stuck in his throat although there was no use in denying it. The man's fate had been sealed the second he'd touched Adam. But even having seen that spell, even knowing what it did, Kris couldn't look at the man and easily condemn him to the kind of fate he knew must be waiting for him.

The man struggled wildly against his bonds and shouted his protest against the gag in his mouth. Baraz waived at the two trolls standing guard.

"You may take him for questioning," Baraz said. "You can tell Lanos he may have the honor of the interrogation—just remind him to clean up afterward. The servants do find straightening up after his little hobbies so distressing."

The guards bowed and dragged the thrashing man from the room.

"What will you do with him?" Kris asked. It was a supremely stupid question and possibly a dangerous one. But having played his assigned role in this little drama Kris couldn't just leave the man to his fate without knowing just what he was sending him to.

Baraz raised a cool eyebrow. "He is human, so he hardly warrants our worst punishments. If he tells us what we want to know he will earn himself a quick death. If not then Lanos will convince him of the error of that decision. I need not remind you that this is far better treatment than what he offered our prince."

Kris jerked his head once. The man would of course fight—there would be no painless death here, as they all understood. But by fey standards it was a generous sentence for what he'd done.

Baraz gestured back at a seating area and Kris had no chance but to follow. He watched as Baraz took a small blue pod and dropped it into the steaming water in the waiting glass teapot. It unfurled into a gently waiving blue flower with a sparkling golden center as sweetly aromatic fumes filled the air.

"That will take a few moments to steep," Baraz said, settling back into the couch. Apparently they were going to play at civilized. Kris supposed it was meant to put him at ease. The Sidhe raised hospitality to a near-religion. Kris was Adam's named guest and once served refreshment should be safe from harm at least until the following dawn. He didn't put his trust in it, though, not after what had been done to Adam and the others.

He tried to get a read on Baraz but could sense nothing. If Kris wasn't looking at him he wouldn't even know he was in the room. Unless attempting complete invisibility, the Sidhe ordinarily radiated shimmers of magic like miniature stars. Kris already knew this one was a power from the way he'd produced Mikshva's hostage in the bare half-hour since he'd left Adam's room, but to be able to disguise his magic apart from his physical self so completely was something else again.

Baraz returned his assessing look with one of his own. "You know I must ask how you came to the prince's rescue."

Kris did know that. He'd just been hoping they could wait until Adam rejoined them for this part of the program. Baraz had undoubtedly learned some part of the story by now. As little as he liked revealing any part of his life to Baraz, Kris was keenly aware he had little room for anything but strictest honesty, here.

"I had sought shelter in the Sanctuary's garden on other business," Kris said, choosing his words carefully. "She told me she had a friend in trouble and asked for my help."

"The Sanctuary, yes," Baraz said, eyes intent. "Fearghas's avatar did return bearing her charm. She gave it to you, I suppose?"

Kris wiped his sweating palms against his jeans. "Yes. She, uh, she said it would protect me as long as it bloomed."

"It is a rare gift and one never given to the unworthy," Baraz said. Despite his words he looked, if anything, unhappier than before. "That sign of her blessing is quite frankly the only reason I am speaking to you, Mr. Allen. Without that you would be joining the other human in enjoying Lanos's hospitality."

Kris jumped up and took a step back, startled by the use of his name. It was stupid to be so surprised—it took only the most elementary of identification spells, spells even Kris could master.

"You—you were going to . . . all I did was _help_ him."

Baraz moved to the edge of the couch and Kris stumbled backwards, almost tripping over his own feet.

Baraz sighed, impatience flitting over his features. "You consider yourself ill used no doubt. Before you indulge yourself in too much indignation, allow me to ask just one question."

Kris couldn't help but look towards the door, even knowing as he did that it was perfectly useless. Even if he could get past Baraz the corridors beyond were filled with beings centuries older than him and infinitely more powerful.

"Let us suppose that a group of fey kidnapped your American president," Baraz said, apparently taking Kris's silence for assent, "and that they used the most terrible of your science to try to put him into a living hell from which there was no escape. If he showed up at the White House still bearing the marks of his own torture in the company of a fey—and here let us say that this fey was just a lowly hobgoblin or brownie and not one you humans find beautiful or powerful—do you really think the FBI would just pat them on the head and let them go?"

"They wouldn't _torture_ them," Kris said.

"Really? You will tell me that—even after what happened in your Border War?"

During the war there had always been stories—talk of what happened to the fey scouts when captured behind the Alliance lines. Kris had always wanted to deny them even though he'd known the worst of them were probably true.

"What do you even want?" he asked.

"For the present, answers will suffice."

Kris took a deep breath and then rejoined Baraz on the couch. He took the cup of tea Baraz offered, dimly pleased that his hands only shook a little.

Baraz peppered him with a series of questions, each more detailed then the last. Kris struggled to answer them as best he could although there were elements of that night that his brain refused to recall.

Baraz paused at last. Kris felt tired and achy, like he'd gone through a heavy round at the gym.

"Thank you," Baraz said. "You have been most helpful. Now there remains only one problem."

Kris slumped against the back of the couch. At this point he didn't even care what Baraz's game was, he just wanted this to be done. "And what would that be?"

"The bond between you and Ailill."

Yes, that. "You can't break it?"

"Not without considerable difficulty and not a little danger to Ailill."

Kris had been basically expecting that. Baraz wouldn't look so annoyed, else.

"The sensible thing would be for you to move to the palace and align your life with the prince's schedule."

Kris listened to this, a little amazed at how cavalierly his whole life was being rearranged.

"Sensible is however a word which has rarely if ever been applied to our prince." The frustration in Baraz's tone seemed natural to it—the unmistakable affection was something of a surprise though. "Knowing Ailill he will insist it is your life that is to be left alone. We will have to make arrangements for him to move to your little compound."

Kris frowned. "Is that safe?"

Baraz tilted his head, giving Kris a considering look. "The palace may not be the best location for Ailill, all things considered. If we kept the knowledge of his true location under spelled secrecy your situation may serve very well."

"There are other people involved, here."

"If you are speaking of your friends, seeing to Aillil's safety necessitates protecting the rest of you."

Kris leaned forward over his knees and shoved a hand through his hair. He was beginning to see why Adam had been so apologetic about this whole binding thing. "If I see anything I don't like, _anything_ , I'm taking Adam away from my friends. They are not going to be targets."

"If anything of that nature should occur," Baraz said, dryly unimpressed, "we will be removing the prince to somewhere more secure ourselves."

He sighed and looked towards the door. "I perhaps misspoke earlier, when I said we only had one more problem to deal with."

Adam shoved his way through the door trailing both Allison and the dryad.

"Your Highness, _please_ ," the dryad said, fluttering behind Adam. "Lord Baraz was just—"

"Disobeying my clearly expressed wishes," Adam said.

He strode across the room and dropped to his knees before Kris. He was breathing slightly hard as if he'd run here and he still wasn't wearing a shirt.

"Are you all right?" he asked, closing his hands around Kris's wrists. Immediately the now-familiar feeling of his magic curled up Kris's spine and into his head, dispelling the aching tightness behind his eyes.

"Yeah, we were just having a conversation." It was strictly true and he was pretty certain making an enemy of Baraz at this point would be a distinctly bad idea.

Adam frowned and turned on Baraz. "What do you think you are doing?"

"As your new companion said—merely having a conversation and sharing some refreshment. Would you care for some tea?"

Adam's frown deepened as he looked at the half-empty teapot and his back straightened as a sudden tension ran through it. "How long have you been here?"

Baraz exhaled slowly. "Perhaps an hour. Altering the time current was necessary if were to have sufficient time to complete our discussion without interruption."

"Which tells me you knew that I'd forbid this the second I learned of it."

"I know it is not in your nature, Ailill, but do try to be reasonable for once. After what happened--"

"I know what it cost us," Adam said, hands tightening around Kris's wrists. "I was there."

Allison came up beside Adam and put a hand on his shoulder. He relaxed a little under her touch and lessened his grip on Kris's arms.

"I know you were there. Reminding you of that horror was never my intention," Baraz said softly. He surprised Kris by dropping to his knees beside Adam and putting his hand on Adam's face. "But it is my place—as well as my dearest desire—to ensure that nothing like that ever touches you again. And for that security measures must be taken."

"I know that," Adam said. "I'm not entirely stupid, no matter what you think about me. But none of those security measures mean touching him."

"I will go as far as duty sends me," Baraz said.

Adam looked at him, expression unreadable. "Then I will make this clear. If anyone touches him for any reason or causes him to be harmed at all, they will be exiled from my presence. Forever. That means you, too, so don't force me to go that far."

Baraz bowed his head in a gesture that seemed to hold more than simple acquiescence. "As in all things, Highness, your pleasure is my own."

"That is an interesting interpretation of our relationship," Adam said, the corners of his mouth curling up a bit.

Baraz stood and offered Adam a hand up. "Well, perhaps not in _all_ things."

Adam just shook his head. "Allison, will you please take Kris back to my rooms? There are a few things Baraz and I should talk about."

She rubbed his shoulder and then smiled at Kris. "Shall we go?"

Adam gripped his shoulder as he moved to leave. "I _am_ sorry for this," he said. "I will explain as best I can later."

He accompanied them to the door and glared down the hall at the hovering faces which peered around doors and around corners.

"My guest is returning to my suite. He will not be interfered with by any of you. I hope I have made myself clear on this point by now."

The waiting faces flinched and then disappeared entirely.

Allison took Kris's arm and led him back to the suite. The echoing silence as they walked through the hallways held a hushed anticipation and Kris could feel a hundred eyes on his back although they saw no one.

No one did interrupt on the entire trip, however, and they were left alone until Adam appeared a few hours later and told him it was time to go home.

~*~*~*~*~

When Kris woke up, Adam was gone. He panicked briefly until he found Adam's note about going to cook breakfast. After a moment of reflection he decided his first instinct had been correct and went back to panicking.

When he got to the house he heard unknown voices echoing down the hallway from the kitchen. They seemed to be talking about who hooked up with who at the last ball. Which could only mean Adam had invited some of his completely terrifying friends to breakfast. Kris paused, momentarily considering going back to bed, but then he thought about what would happen if Danny were to discover them and bravely soldiered on.

Kris skidded into the kitchen in what he hoped looked like a casual stroll. From Adam's amused look he didn't think he'd been entirely successful. He took a quick assessment of the kitchen. Despite the slightly charred smell that hung over everything nothing looked particularly damaged. He allowed himself to relax a bit.

That was until he got a better look at Adam.

"What . . . what are you _wearing_?" he asked, clutching the edge of the counter for support.

What Adam was wearing was a pair of clunky hiking boots, some rumpled jeans that seemed about two sizes too big, a horrible denim vest complete with faux-leather fringe and what was possibly the ugliest plaid shirt known to man. Kris could see that. He could not, however, figure out what these things were doing on Adam.

"Isn't it just hideous?" Adam said, looking for all the world like he couldn't be more ecstatic about that. "I'm trying to be incognito. My stylists don't really have much experience with what regular humans wear, but we thought if we just went with ugly and shapeless we'd get it in the ballpark."

Kris could just stare at him.

Someone snorted. "Every time I look at you in that outfit a fairy loses her wings."

"Now you're just being mean," Adam said.

Kris turned to find the source of the voice. At first he thought he was looking at Julia, one of their kitchen staff, but then his vision shifted and he felt his world tilt violently.

Three brownies stood clustered around the stove. He'd seen brownies before. The ones in LA all stayed in the better groomed parts of town where Kris never went, but they were the most common of the fey left back east. But the ones from home all had the surgery to smooth out their skin and reshape their features to more human proportions. The only ones Kris had ever seen in their unaltered form had been in the war.

These three all had the brown wrinkled-apple skin, long noses and pointed donkey-like ears of Thistleleaf's allies. Kris felt his heart thump hard in his chest as adrenaline shot through his veins, leaving him shaky and nauseous.

Adam appeared in front of him, blocking his vision of the three by the stove, and gripped Kris by the upper arm.

"I think Kristopher just needs his coffee," Adam said. His voice was as bright as before but his eyes were sharp with worry.

Kris took a deep breath and gave Adam a half-hearted smile. "Coffee would be good, yeah."

Adam made a big production of handing Kris into a chair and grabbing him a steaming mug of coffee. It gave Kris enough space to settle himself.

Adam sat beside him and placed a seemingly casual hand on his elbow. "These are some old friends of mine—Marigold, Yarrow and Thorn," he said, nodding at each brownie in turn.

Kris looked at the first one with the bold streaks in her hair and the heavy weight of silver loops that ringed her long ears and thought he'd never met anyone less likely to be called Marigold. On closer inspection they all looked different than Thistleleaf's troops—more modern, not so desperately angry.

He took a sip of coffee almost absently. It curled around his tongue, rich and aromatic and completely without the processed bitterness that infested the wretched stuff which was all they could usually afford.

"This is amazing," he said. God, amazing didn't even begin to describe it. It was like what coffee dreamed of becoming in a better life.

"I made it!" Adam said.

"That's because it's the only thing you can make," Marigold said.

Adam made a production of acting offended. "I don't understand why you always have to be so negative. It's like a disease."

"You set the toaster on fire. On _fire_."

Adam grimaced. "Don't worry, they managed to fix it," he said to Kris. It did look fine if suspiciously shiny where it sat on the counter.

"Here," Thorn said, handing Kris a big plate of waffles covered in strawberries.

"Thank you," Kris said. Thorn smiled shyly at him and then went back over to where he'd been mixing up more batter.

The waffles, if possible, were even better than the coffee. Although—

"Not that I'm complaining, but where is our kitchen staff? We have to feed a couple hundred people here in about an hour."

"I gave them the morning off," Adam declared airily. "Thorn said they would cook."

"That's very nice of them," Kris said. "There's just one problem."

Adam looked over at the brownies, frowning. "Oh, _that_ ," he said, face clearing. "Brownies are good at glamour. To everyone else they'll just look like your regular staff."

Kris supposed he could live with that. The staff probably welcomed the morning off and if the waffles were any indication no one would be complaining about the menu for once.

"I am glad you are up early," Adam said. "It'll give them more time to renovate the house."

Kris was almost afraid to ask. "Renovate the house?"

"Oh, it'll look the same from the outside," Adam said, totally oblivious to Kris's agitation. "We'll just have some more space and maybe some new furniture. And hopefully some color that isn't beige."

"I like beige," Kris said a little helplessly.

"Oh, I've noticed." Adam gave him a kind of pitying look. "Don't worry, I told them you're Southern."

Considering what Adam's people thought "regular humans" dressed like he could not even begin to imagine what that even meant. "I . . . thank you? I think?"

"You're welcome!" Adam said. He looked so happy Kris couldn't help but smile a little stupidly in return.

Danny clumped into the kitchen and took the coffee Thorn handed him. Kris tensed but Danny didn't seem to notice anything wrong.

Kris had felt duty bound to tell Danny just who Adam was last night. He'd taken it far better than Kris would have expected, but finding more fey infesting his kitchen might have been enough to send him over the edge.

Danny sipped his coffee but just grunted at the taste. Probably because he hated joy.

"I'll need some help rearranging the common room for the group sessions," Danny said.

"I'll help," Adam said.

Danny considered him for a minute but then nodded brusquely. "It's, uh, nice to see you trying to blend in."

Adam's answering smile was nearly blinding.

Kris realized right in that moment that they were wearing the exact same vest. And to think, just last week his life had actually made sense. He put his head down on the table as Adam and Danny left the room and counted to ten. And then to twenty for good measure.

"Sir?"

Kris lifted his head. Thorn hovered uncertainly by his shoulder with Marigold standing just behind.

"We heard what you did. For Adam."

Kris sat up and tried not to look too apprehensive. He hoped he wasn't going to have to go through this with every fey they met. "I'm sure whatever you heard was pretty exaggerated."

"Not likely," Marigold said, pushing her way forward. "Look, Adam's important to us, okay? And for more reasons than those assholes up on the hill will ever have."

She held up her hand and a gently glowing ball of light appeared. At Kris's confusion she rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand with her free one.

"You ever get into trouble—or if he does, you call us, okay? Just think really hard about needing our help and we'll come if we can."

Kris would have refused but he'd seen what whoever was after Adam was prepared to do. "Okay."

She nodded, suddenly approving, and pressed the ball of light into his hand. It melted into his skin and thrummed along his veins for a moment before subsiding. He'd carried summoning spells before of course in the Division. But this one felt friendlier somehow.

"Adam's a good kid, but he can be a little dumb sometimes," Marigold said. "He trusts way too easily for someone in his position."

"He just wants people to be happy," Thorn said.

"Yeah, and as a life goal, it's pretty fucking stupid."

"I think it's nice," Thorn said, looking stubborn.

Kris thought it sounded nice, too, but maybe Marigold had a point. "I'll watch out for him, okay?"

"Hmmph," Marigold said. "I guess that's okay."

Thorn beamed at him and gave him another waffle. Kris decided that maybe he could stand to spend more time around Adam's friends after all.

~*~*~*~*~

Kris paused in the doorway to the bedroom, completely speechless.

He'd had hope from the kitchenette and living room. Adam's crew had somehow altered the space so it was twice as big, but they'd just filled it up with some better appliances, actual grown-up furniture and a giant television. Oh, and a bar stocked with about every kind of alcohol available in the Los Angeles greater area. Kris thought you'd have to be a special kind of asshole to complain about that, especially after he'd spotted the pie Thorn had left them in the refrigerator.

The bedroom was another world. A king sized bed filled up most of the opposite wall. Which would have been okay except for the giant American flag comforter that covered it. Kris was pretty sure those were American flag sheets sticking out from one edge and those were definitely star spangled bolsters scattered across the bed. The curtains were done in a violent red white and blue plaid that almost made the comforter look sedate and there appeared to be a large poster of monster-trucks on one wall.

The only consolation to all of this was that Adam was looking as disturbed as Kris felt. More so, probably.

Adam sat on the bed and bounced on it once. "The bed is nice," he said, determinedly cheerful.

Kris gave in and sat beside him. The cotton of the comforter felt warm and smooth and, well, sort of homey under his fingers. It smelled of the sun and a fresh breeze, like it had just been pulled in off the line.

There opposite the bed was a large picture of central Arkansas in spring that wasn't new at all. He'd bought the poster in college. When he'd come out here he'd just shoved all of his old boxes in his car without paying attention to any of it. The poster had sat battered and torn in the back of the closet. Adam's people had repaired it, smoothed it out and put it carefully under a glass frame.

Kris hadn't been home since he'd come to LA. That was the first view of Arkansas he'd seen in over two years. It felt . . . okay, though. Like something it was time to remember maybe.

Adam put his hand on Kris's back and rubbed it in small circles. "Here," he said, "look at this."

Kris let Adam pull them until they were lying side by side on the bed.

"Oh," he said. A wide bank of skylights had been installed above the bed, although the view was never one you'd see from LA. The night sky stretched out above them—the kind of sky you only got when you were far from civilization and thousands of stars shone down out of the velvet dark. The windows had been left cracked open and the sweet cool air of an Arkansas night in high spring sifted over them. It carried the tender green smell of new growth and apple blossoms with just a hint of something wilder beneath.

"We can change it if you like," Adam said, frowning at the curtains.

"No, leave it," Kris said, giving into the helpless grin that spread across his face. "It's perfect."

~*~*~*~*~

"Kris, can I talk to you for a minute?" Danny called from his office.

"Yeah," Kris said, ducking into the room. "But I was on my way to dinner so if it'll be awhile I'd just like to tell Adam."

Danny crossed his arms. "You're having dinner with Adam."

"He is my roommate."

Danny sighed and gestured at his computer screen. "I've been doing some research on our new guest. Have you seen this?"

The computer was open to one of the endless sites devoted to the love life of LA's resident prince.

"Danny, seriously, _what the hell?_ " Kris said, backing up a step. "That isn't any of my business. Yours either."

"He's in my house. He's around my people. That makes it my business," Danny said, lifting his chin.

Kris shook his head but stepped forward again. Danny wasn't going to let this go and if they had to do it Kris wanted to end it before Danny could bring it up in front of Adam.

It wasn't anything he hadn't seen before, mostly just pictures of Adam with his arm around some boy or another. Compared to a lot of these sites the pictures were pretty tame. The vast majority were with the same man, small and sharp and pretty.

"Do you know who that is?" Danny said, gesturing at the man.

"Yeah, he's Adam's ex. I think his name is Brad." That was not what Danny meant, of course, but Kris wasn't going to let him make this conversation easy.

"He's the Duke of Eastland's son," Danny said, scowling. "Do you really think the Duke is excited at seeing his heir plastered all over the internet—and like _this_? I don't think he's the type to piss off."

The Duke was definitely not someone you wanted to annoy. His territory was the biggest holding in Texas after the king's, stretching along the entire Louisiana border and continuing halfway to the panhandle to the west. Even before the war he'd had a reputation for being a man difficult to oppose and even more difficult to predict. Nearly alone amongst the other human powers in the West, he'd studied and actively courted the great fey kingdoms for years and was said to be a favored friend of Queen Eilín. He'd collected fey art and literature and regularly hosted artists and philosophers from amongst their kind at his estate. There were those before the war who'd called him a traitor for it. None of those voices remained afterward and not only because many of them were dead.

"You've met him, haven't you?" Danny insisted. "Tell me he'd be happy about this."

Kris had met him once during the war when the Division had joined forces with the Duke's men in the third year's great assault on one of Thistleleaf's fortresses. He was a small man with an ironic, intelligent face and manners as exacting as the Sidhe. It had been hard to reconcile their elegant, witty host with the man who was responsible for the Alliance's few early and intensely bloody victories. At least until the following day when Kris had finally seen him in battle, that is.

"I think," Kris said, "that it would be pretty stupid to think you know anything about how the Duke would react to anything."

Thistleleaf had learned that mistake only too well. He'd set up his personal base and strongest troops in Nebraska, trusting some of his lesser people to lead his forces to the south. It was a tactic that worked like a dream—at first. The Texans had some of the most professional soldiers in the world, but they were suspicious of magic and didn't train in even the most elementary of defensive spells. Thistleleaf's lines had rolled easily across the panhandle and towards the capital, defeating the Dukes of Plainview and Sweetwater on the way.

Two-hundred miles north of Austin the fey had run headlong into Eastland's forces. It was the farthest south they were ever to get. As it turned out, the Duke's obsession with all things Faerie had been no idle curiosity. He'd trained himself and the strongest of his soldiers in all of the offensive spells humans could manage. They could never match the fey for sheer magical ability, but they didn't need to. It was enough that they blunted the worst of the fey magic and allowed the human troops to finally engage the fey on the ground. Thousands died in grinding Thistleleaf's lines to a halt, but he was stopped. And then Eastland began the slow bloody drive pushing them back north again.

As a general, the Duke was clever, fast, and brutal. Once his own territory was safe he'd accepted transfer up north to the thickest of the fighting. He'd been the one to eventually break the defenses at Thistleleaf's personal fortress. Rumor had it that he'd also been the one to finally kill Thistleleaf. That he'd had Thistleleaf's body roped up in plain view while he executed his fey prisoners in swift batches in the fortress's central square beneath was undisputed. Eastland had sent the pictures to all the major newspapers himself.

"I don't really care what he thinks. I just don't want his attention at all," Danny said.

"If Eastland didn't want these pictures to be out there, they wouldn't be," Kris said. "And from what I remember of him, he wouldn't care if his son was cavorting around with a hundred princes so long as he was still taking care of the Duke's business."

But then Danny knew that. Kris didn't believe Eastland had ever been the real issue.

"Just tell me," Kris said, "is it the fact that Adam's a fey that's bothering you? Or is it that it's a guy with him?"

"Those people, they're not like us," Danny said, gesturing at the screen. "Look at that and tell me you're comfortable with it."

Kris looked. The ones at the top of the page were Adam and Brad in a series of increasingly elaborate costumes, Brad poised and aggressive and Adam looking indulgent and fond. That look left with Brad. In the later pictures there was a changing array of men, a few lasting longer than others. What didn't change was the bored, cynical expression on Adam's face.

"I think it's sad," Kris said.

Danny blinked, obviously nonplussed. "Sad?"

"These two people are happy," he said, pointing to a picture of Adam and Brad. Brad had his hands twisted in the fabric of Adam's shirt and Adam had laid one hand on Brad's jaw line as they leaned into each other.

He motioned at the later photos. "That went away somehow. Yeah, I think it's sad. That shit is hard enough without it being used as front page news."

"I'm not doing this," he said. "And you better not say a word to him either."

He turned for the door, but Danny grabbed his arm.

"I'm just saying you don't know him. How do you know you can trust him?"

Kris yanked his arm away. "I know he bound himself to me to save my life. And I know he fed himself to a damn llus-gorn to save my sanity. Maybe I'm being rash, but that's enough for me."

"I didn't know that," Danny said quietly.

Kris realized he was clenching his fists and relaxed them with an act of will. "Yeah, well there's a lot you don't know."

"I'm just trying to watch out for my people, here. And that includes you even if you don't want it."

"This isn't watching out for anyone," Kris said, gesturing at the computer, "and it's sad just how much you don't get that. I'm going to dinner. We're done here."

Danny's pursed his lips but didn't say anything.

Kris stomped off to his place, trying desperately to wipe the anger off his face. The last thing he needed was for Adam to ask him what was wrong.

He rounded the path into the private garden space that had miraculously appeared around his bungalow to find Mike sitting on their new patio furniture sharing a beer with Adam.

"Mike!" he said. "Man, it's good to see you."

He took the beer Adam offered and perched himself on the edge of one of the chairs. The beer was something expensive and unpronounceable. Good, though. It reminded him a little of something he'd had when serving in Burma.

"Likewise," Mike said. "They told me you got out fine but I had to make sure for myself."

Mike looked different, more centered and there than Kris had seen him for a long, long time.

"I needed to tell you something else, too," Mike said, looking down at his beer. "I, uh, I got a job. I don't know if you'll approve, but it feels right."

"It's amazing!" Adam said, practically vibrating with excitement.

"Yeah," Mike said, his eyes crinkling as he shared Adam's smile. "I think so, too."

"Do I get to know what it is?" Kris asked.

"The Sanctuary—she asked me if I'd be willing to take on managing the place and I told her I'd do it."

Kris sat back. "Are you sure about that? The Canyon isn't really a place for humans."

"I'm sure," Mike said. "It's got potential. No one has cared enough to take care of it is all. And she's lonely and needs someone to help her. It's not right that she should be stuck down there all alone." He looked down at his beer. "It's been a while since anybody needed me."

He lifted his head and looked at Kris, eyes pleading. "She told me she can make me my own doorway. One that goes somewhere safe."

Kris remembered the way he'd been in the bar—in charge and natural, like he'd been in their early days of service.

"I think you should do it, then," he said. "I think you'll be great. Really."

"Thanks," Mike said, swallowing hard. "Your opinion means a lot to me."

Kris gave his knee a quick squeeze and then got up to get him another beer.

Mike stayed long enough to finish it, but then he got up, pleading the need to pick up some things for the Sanctuary before the shops closed. Adam scribbled down the names of some suppliers he knew and Mike went off with a final wave.

"I'm so glad for them," Adam said, looking a little bright eyed himself. "She's been alone for so long now."

"What happened to the last manager?" Kris hoped he hadn't just sent Mike off into the lion's den after all.

"He died of old age," Adam said. "He was her creator. There's been no one since then except the occasional fey who finds their way into her garden some other way."

"How long has she been by herself?"

"At least fifty years," Adam said, face darkening. "Usually Sanctuary spells are handed down between human generations. The Sanctuary gets people to take care of and they get a home and someone to look after in return. That's how it's supposed to work. But he didn't care enough to find someone for her after he was gone. Like she didn't matter, like she wasn't even a _person_."

"Hey," Kris said, wrapping his hand around Adam's wrist.

"I'm sorry," Adam said. "It's not your fault. I should really go see her myself. Mike said she was pretty worried."

Kris frowned. "I'd like to go, too, but I don't see how it's possible. I think we've established how badly I do down there and I can't say I'm excited about you going by yourself."

Adam gave him that look that Kris was beginning to recognize. The one that said he thought Kris was maybe a little dim, but that was okay because it was just _adorable_.

"Hello," Adam said. "Prince of Faerie? I can open a portal myself."

"Oh."

"We'll have to go outside your compound here. Baraz put a teleportation block on this place, but any doorway will do." He paused and looked down at himself. "I'll have to change first. No one I know can see me looking like this."

Kris sighed. "I keep telling you. Ugly and cheap are not actually the goals of human day wear."

They were five days into Adam's fashion adventure. Kris didn't know if he could take any more. He was by no means a fashionista, but clothes that hideous didn't belong on a person that pretty. It was just wrong.

"I have eyes, Kristopher."

Kris glared at him. "Danny Gokey is not representative of all humanity."

The corner of Adam's mouth curled up. "Point."

Kris settled back in the chair to wait while Adam changed. Even short experience suggested it might be a while.

A voice in his head asked him what he thought he doing preparing to follow someone he hardly knew that deep into Faerie through a portal he couldn't control. That voice sounded a lot like Danny, though, so he just mentally gave it the bird and finished his beer.

When Adam reappeared, this time in a normal t-shirt and jeans, Kris was feeling pretty mellow. It was easy to follow him out the front gate and around the back of a neighboring warehouse, Danny or no Danny. Adam touched the doorframe in the alley entranceway and a bright portal flashed into existence.

Adam grabbed his wrist and pulled him through.

"You really have to stop doing that," Kris said, rubbing his wrist.

They stood on one of the paths in the Sanctuary's garden. She appeared in front of them and made a small high-pitched sound of surprise. Adam opened his arms and she threw herself at him, basically climbing him like a tree.

"You came back," she said, wrapping both arms and legs around him and pressing her forehead against his.

Adam just gripped her around the waist and let her cling to him. "Yeah, honey, I came back."

"That spell made the garden sick for _days_ ," she said. "I was so afraid you were going to be trapped like that."

"If it weren't for you I would have been," Adam said.

"I had help," she said. She looked up over Adam's shoulder and smiled at Kris. "Hello, Kristopher."

Kris gave her a little wave and Adam set her down on her feet.

"We've come for dinner," Adam said.

"Oh, _good_ ," she said, clapping her hands together. "I have so much to tell you!"

"Yeah?" Adam said, letting her take his hand and drag him off down the path. She took them to a wide clearing set with a large picnic blanket and dozens of huge pillows.

"You'll stay here?" she said, searching Adam's face.

"Right here."

She crossed her arms and frowned at them until they'd both taken off their shoes and sat down on the pillows.

"I'll be right back," she said and disappeared with a slight pop of air.

Kris looked around the garden. It felt brighter now that the spell was gone. "How did you find this place?"

"It was by accident, really," Adam said. "I'd just moved into the Embassy and got myself completely lost. I took the wrong door and it led me here. She was so happy to see me I started coming maybe a couple times a month."

He looked down and twisted a stray thread between his fingers. "It was just nice, you know? To have somewhere where people weren't watching all the time."

Oh God, Kris thought, remembering all those pictures he'd been looking at just an hour ago.

"Sounds pretty stupid, right?" Adam said with a little self-mocking twist. "Poor little prince, can't even deal with a few cameras."

Kris was going to kill Danny, seriously. "I think it sounds sane."

The relieved gratitude in the look Adam gave him only made him feel worse.

The Sanctuary reappeared with a tray heaped with food. One of her muskrat helpers scurried out from behind and then set out some dishes before disappearing again.

The Sanctuary told them about Mike's new job and all her plans for improving the garden while they ate. Adam, patient and gently interested, let her babble on at him.

The food was good, if mostly vegetarian. The Sanctuary kept pushing food on them even if she did seem a little impatient about something.

"Finally," she said when Adam put down his plate. "Can we? Please?"

"If we must," Adam said, trying to act aggrieved although the smile kind of ruined it.

She dragged him to his feet and over to the grass as baroque music started playing from somewhere. He gave her an elaborate bow to match the deep curtsey she gave him. They started in on one of the older fey dances, one of the ones just a little too complicated and intricate for most humans to match. Kris had seen a few of them before at the official balls in DC when he'd served on Queen Eilín's honor guard. This one had quick interlocking footwork that reminded him a little of Argentine Tango.

Kris would have fallen on his ass in about three steps, but those two looked easy, practiced, like this was something they did a lot. After a little while the music abruptly lurched into something faster.

The Sanctuary stepped up onto Adam's feet. "This way," she said imperiously.

Adam just shook his head and gripped her around the waist, leading them in something that started mostly like a waltz but ended in him just spinning them around and around to her increasingly wild shrieks of laughter.

This was the guy Danny wanted him to be afraid of. This.

Adam finally spun them to a halt and dramatically collapsed on the pillows.

"I'm done," he said. "You'll have to ask Kris if you want more."

She eyed him hopefully. It was easy enough to get up and give her a bow of his own, even if it felt a little creaky. It was even easier after he spotted Adam's quick smile of approval.

He stuck to the few social dances his grandfather had taught him back in high school. She followed along gamely, catching on after a few steps.

"This is easier," she said. She glanced at Adam and then leaned up to speak in Kris's ear. "He's just so _tall_."

"Yeah," Kris said. "It's really kind of freakish."

"Jealousy," Adam pronounced, "is not a good color on anyone."

"I thought about asking you if you'd like to stay with me instead of Mike," the Sanctuary said quietly. "You seemed so sad that night when you stayed here before."

Kris wasn't really sure to make of that.

"But I thought Mike maybe needed me more," she said. She gave Adam a sly sideways glance. "And you have someone now, too."

"Yeah," Kris said, "I guess I do."

~*~*~*~*~

Kris took a beer out of the fridge and told himself he could stop being such an idiot any time now. Any other person would have been happy. Thorn had left him a plate of Chicken Alfredo for dinner, there had actually been a game on that he'd wanted to watch and he'd had the house to himself for the first time in three weeks.

But instead of enjoying that Kris had just picked listlessly at his dinner, and even though he'd half-watched the game he couldn't even guess at who'd won. The place seemed suddenly a bit small and, okay, _beige_ without Adam's endless energy distracting him. Kris had gotten used to coming home to only himself over the last two years and it had just been a nice change just to have someone around. And Adam was funny and had these stupidly charming old-fashioned manners and could be deeply tragically dorky in ways Kris could really relate to. Kris could think of worse people to be tied to for a year.

He sat on the couch and went back to his half-hearted channel surfing. As an attempt to distract himself from what was really bothering him, it was about as successful as the rest of the night had been.

It wasn't like Kris actually expected Adam to spend the next year of his life tamely sitting in Kris's living room. They hadn't exactly worked out a plausible reason for Adam's presence in Kris's life, so Adam had been forced to stay here even on the nights Kris had gone out himself. Adam had tried to be nice about it, but Kris could tell he was getting a little claustrophobic. Kris got the need for a change of scenery, he really did.

The thing was he couldn't really suppress the niggling suspicion that had settled as a growing tension in the base of his skull. What was more he thought suppressing it might be a mistake. Baraz had told Adam he had reviewed the security at the Embassy and was satisfied about the safety of the night's event. Kris wasn't really so sure.

It was tempting to think the group that had attacked Adam had just been a group of stray human psychopaths who'd decided to have some really sick fun. It happened all the time in this city. Kris knew that Adam really wanted to believe that. Believing it meant he didn't have to suspect one of the people he lived with of having done that to him. For Adam's sake, Kris really hoped it was true.

He just didn't think they could afford to believe it. Adam was actual royalty, not just some poor lower level fey who got jumped on his way home from work. The men who'd grabbed Adam must have had help from someone close to Adam at the very least—though it was more likely that they were just hired thugs working for someone else. Someone who could very well be at the Embassy party tonight.

Last week Kris had sat Adam down and tried to go through the night he was captured to see if he could remember a name, a voice, _anything_ that might help them figure out who was involved. All Adam could remember from the moment they'd grabbed him was that he'd just left a party and there had been a sharp pain in his head and then nothing. He remembered plenty from when he'd woken up in that square in the Canyon. None of it was helpful and all of it was difficult to hear. Kris knew Adam had really been trying to remember, but after an hour Kris only had a helpless overwhelming sense of anger with no one to direct it towards and Adam had been almost as shaky and pale as he'd been that first night at Mikshva's.

Kris had just massaged the tension at the base of Adam's neck, happy when the tight, hunched line of Adam's shoulders had relaxed and he'd leaned into Kris. They'd stayed that way while they watched a few hours of a Star Trek marathon. Adam had seemed okay at the end of the night, but the obvious effort he put into being cheerful for Kris's sake only doubled Kris's resolve to find the sociopath behind all this.

Kris slumped against the back of the couch and flipped through a few more channels. He didn't know how he thought he could even help Adam. He was just an ex-soldier who lived in a borrowed house in one of the less savory districts in LA. Adam was a _prince_ and was surrounded by really powerful people and was—

On TV, apparently.

If Kris had just remembered that they'd started broadcasting the more formal of these Embassy functions, he could have spared himself a whole lot of worry. Adam appeared to be unharmed, which was easy to tell given how very much of him was on display.

In the t-shirts and jeans he'd finally given in to wearing, Adam hadn't seemed much like royalty. Kris had kind of taken to thinking of him as his own private discovery—just a stray force of nature the universe had seen fit to install in Kris's living room.

The Adam there on the screen—well, he was still unmistakably _Adam_ but he was something more, too. Adam had wrapped a green kilt low on his hips and fastened it in an intricate knot on one side, leaving the edge of one long thigh half-exposed. That and the complicated collar of gold and jade and peacock feathers that wrapped high around his neck and spilled down over his chest were the only things he was wearing. They'd lightly painted his bare skin, giving him a faintly golden sheen. With his hair turned back into Ailill's longer red-gold waves and sprinkled with gold-dust, he practically glittered in the light of the ballroom.

There were others in the crowd more beautiful, and certainly amongst the Sidhe you could always find someone wearing even less. But Adam still stood out, taller and broader and just a shade more vivid than all of them. For the first time, Kris could look at him and see a prince.

Adam moved through the crowd at a slow, languid gate, Baraz hovering helpfully at his elbow. Baraz leaned in to speak something in Adam's ear. His hand skimmed the tempting bare curve of Adam's lower back and Adam swayed into him, easy and familiar. Three Sidhe males, lithe and perfect as they all were, trailed after in slightly abbreviated copies of Adam's costume. One had a telltale glitter of golden paint along his cheek and another had a similar mark on one hip.

Kris closed his eyes, unable to stop from picturing what it would be like—standing there bare and exposed in Adam's wake wearing the marks of his own possession in gleaming trails upon his skin. He could almost feel the warm weight of Adam's fingers on his cheek and then in a long lingering sweep down his spine.

He opened his eyes to see one of Adam's entourage had curled into him and was gazing up at him, clear offer in his eyes. Adam's returning smile was so warm and full of such plainly sexual appreciation Kris felt his breath catch in his throat.

He let his head fall back and stared at the ceiling, palming himself roughly through his suddenly tight jeans. This . . . was really the last thing he needed.

God, he was so, so fucked.

~*~*~*~*~

Kris walked the last of his security sweep with Ron. It was their day for doing the heavy inspections of the perimeter wards and Kris was ready to be done. It took hours and keeping his sense of the magic in the wards in the forefront of his mind left him aching and drained.

Max and Ron tried to help, of course, but Kris was really the only one who could do it. It was why they'd hired him, after all. Something had been working against the spells guarding the southwest corner. They usually found some sign of tampering every few weeks or so, so Kris wasn't immediately worried, but the situation with Adam meant he should keep a closer eye on it.

It probably meant he should be doing these inspections more often—which was just great, really.

They finished the last of the final wall and Max went off back to the main house to help Danny and some of the volunteer clinicians with the last of the afternoon rounds. Kris walked towards his own place, telling himself sternly that he wasn't going to look for Adam.

He heard the sound of someone singing when he'd only half crossed the lawn. The words sounded like the old, high-court language used by the Western Sidhe which told Kris all he needed to know about the singer's identity.

He crossed through the barrier of lush, tall foliage that now guarded his house into the riotous garden. Lil and Adam were sitting there with the children from the daycare. They all looked wild and strange, painted with glitter and makeup and even what looked like mud and leaves from the garden.

It was Adam who was singing. Of course. Kris had been dimly aware that Ailill was supposed to be a singer, but, hell, this was LA. Everyone was some sort of model-actress-fashion designer. That Ailill was some kind of prince-musician-sexual magician only seemed inevitable.

Adam spared Kris a quick wink but went on with his song, high liquid notes lilting into each other with casual, breathtaking ease. It sounded like a lullaby, sweet and gentle and just a little melancholy. Kris sat on the grass next to Adam. The sound was relaxing, but all it did was wind the knot in Kris's chest even tighter.

He must have been a real jerk in a previous life to deserve this kind of karma. It was awkward enough to be around Adam with this new and interesting desire to lick the exposed notch in his collarbone without knowing about this, too. He'd hoped when Adam returned from the party and went back to being the Adam Kris was familiar with the problem would go away. But he couldn't un-see the Adam from that night. He couldn't look at Adam's shoulders without seeing the play of muscles beneath his t-shirt or at the rounded shape of his legs in those jeans without imagining the whisper of green fabric against the exposed line of his thigh.

It was distracting, to say the least. Kris had been aware of a certain _attraction_ before, certainly. But he'd thought it was harmless, just the usual low level thrum you got around anyone that vibrant. At least half of LA wanted to sleep with Adam, it didn't have to mean anything.

But when he'd woken up the morning after the party beside Adam he'd known it wasn't going to be that easy. Adam had been rumpled and touchable and exuding a delicious satiation that could only mean one thing. His hair had been changed back to the usual spiky black, but there was a gleam of gold under the hinge of his jaw and another on his wrist. Kris had been struck with an intense desire to push up his t-shirt and find what other spots might be lurking on the hidden corners of his body. Kris had torn himself away, enduring a quick and brutally cold shower before escaping to the house before Adam woke up.

He'd done the same thing the next three mornings. It was getting a little old.

Adam finished a moment later and the children all leaned in.

"That was nice," Kris said. Nice, right. Totally smooth there, Allen.

Adam smiled. "My mother used to sing it."

His mother, the Queen of Western Faerie. Kris had a fair opportunity to observe Queen Eilín when he'd served on her honor guard. She hadn't seemed the type to sing lullabies, but then, probably even the Sidhe were different in private.

"We were just finishing with art class," Adam said. "The kids wanted to hear something from Faerie."

It was his new job. Adam had been enthusiastic and almost overwhelmingly helpful every time Kris had asked him to do anything, but the sad thing was there just wasn't that much of Kris's job Adam could do. He couldn't go inside and interact with the residents and his magic wasn't really the sort that was useful in reinforcing protection wards. Lil had finally borrowed him to watch the children one day. The kids and Adam formed an instant mutual appreciation society and now he had charge of them every afternoon for two hours. He spent most mornings in their kitchen racking his brain for larger and more exciting art projects for the kids to do. There were now piles of paper covering Kris's table and overflowing into the living room. He found he didn't really mind.

"Today we're experimenting with face paint," Adam said.

Kris could see that. Even Lil had wild streaks of gold glitter over her eyes—and yes, there was more of it in her hair.

He felt a tug on one sleeve and looked down to see Jenna, one of their more regular charges.

"Adam did mine," she said. Jenna's mother had been a Dust addict. Dust left deep purple lines tracing all over the skin of its more serious abusers and it tended to do the same thing to their children. Adam hadn't covered the lines but emphasized them, adding in bold streaks of color that turned the aberrations into something that seemed striking and exotic.

There were fey, Kris realized, who would probably find her beautiful.

"It looks pretty," he said, smiling at her.

"Mr. Allen should get some paint, too," she said to Adam.

Kris just raised an eyebrow at Adam's curious look.

"I think maybe no," Adam said after a minute. "Some things aren't in need of adornment."

Kris felt a familiar flutter in his stomach as his face heated.

Adam tilted his head to the side. "There may be something."

He bent down and unlatched one of his bracelets. He wrapped it around Kris's wrist with strong sure fingers, thumb lingering over Kris's pulse point for a bare moment after he'd fastened the catch.

The bracelet was warm from Adam's skin. It was made of heavy interlocking strands of old silver with smooth black stones nestled along its length. When Kris looked closer he could see galaxies of falling stars within each stone. It was not the sort of thing you just gave away even if you were a prince.

"Adam," he said, "I can't take this. It's too much."

"It's yours," Adam said, waiving him off.

"You promised us some magic," one of the boys said.

Kris wasn't that sure about Adam using magic around other people. They'd made a mutual decision not to hide the fact that he was fey—that was pretty damn obvious if you spent five minutes with him. But flaunting it might get you noticed and that was not something Adam precisely needed.

"So I did," Adam said. He plucked a broad leaf from a nearby shrub and ripped it into a shape that looked vaguely like a butterfly.

"Watch," he said, folding his other hand over it. When he lifted his hand again, a large moth sat in his palm, its green wings giving off an opalescent sheen in the afternoon light. The wings fluttered, scattering shining green dust, and then the moth flew over into the shade under the porch.

"Do another one!" Jenna said.

But Adam just shook his head. "You'll have to make your own."

The kids scattered around the garden, looking for things to make their own bugs with. Kris watched for a moment as Adam followed along, touching each one in turn and sending one exotic specimen after another to flit around their yard.

He looked down at his new bracelet, running his fingers over the smooth twists of silver. It held a lingering echo of Adam's magic, pleasant and warm on his skin.

"I wish you'd be careful, honey."

Kris looked up to find Lil watching him, worried expression on her face.

"Careful with what?" he said flatly, afraid he already knew where this was going.

But she held up a hand. "Before you get all righteous protector on me, it's not that I don't like him. I've always liked him."

Kris blinked. "You've met him before?"

She nodded. "At a couple of the more high-flying fundraisers. Anyone who's not a complete ass tends to stick out in that kind of crowd."

Kris glanced over to where Adam was still chasing the children around the yard. "I don't think blending in is really his specialty."

"I remember him being very sweet," Lil said. "Not rushing me along, even though his handlers obviously would have preferred it. And then he sent a really nice note a few weeks later asking how the new art room was coming along. Like I said, liking him isn't the problem."

"Then what?"

"He's lovely. The people he lives with are not. The ones who came with him to the fundraiser were polite—they're _always_ polite—but they made it clear from word one that that they thought it was distasteful that he was even talking to me."

"Yeah, I've met some of them."

She nodded slowly. "Then you know. And you know he has to go back to them eventually. That's his world, not this."

"I get that," Kris said. "It's just . . . I like him. He's easy." And he was, even with this stupid new obsession Kris had developed. Liking Adam seemed as simple and necessary as breathing. He didn't think he could stop if he tried.

"I know you like him," she said, expression gentle like he was one of her kids. "I just don't want to see you get hurt."

"I know," he said, covering her hand with his.

She sighed. "Just tell me you'll remember to look out for yourself, too. You're allowed to do that, you know."

"I'll remember."

He gave her hand a final squeeze and then got up to join Adam and the kids. Maybe she was right and he was being stupid. He'd been trying to protect himself for the last two years, though, and he didn't think it had gotten him anywhere. He was just so damn tired of careful.

If Adam wasn't safe, well, Kris didn't feel particularly safe himself.

"I forgot to thank you—for the bracelet, I mean," he said to Adam.

"It suits you." Adam slid his hand around Kris's wrist, fingering the silver where it lay against Kris's skin. "And you're welcome."

~*~*~*~*~

"I just don't know what he's going to say," Adam said. He crossed his arms defensively over his chest and stared blankly at the portal before them.

They were waiting for the arrival of Adam's uncle, Prince Riagán. Kris had felt pretty strongly that this was an event he could stay home for, but apparently the uncle had wanted to meet him. So now Kris stood there with the other three, his stomach tying itself in knots.

Allison placed a hand on Adam's arm. "He just wants to see you. You know that."

Adam bit his lower lip. "Fearghas was his best friend."

"I have known Fearghas since coming to the west," Baraz said. "Long enough at any rate for me to believe he would have desired no other end but to offer his life in defense of those he valued. Your uncle and I have very rarely seen eye to eye, but I think he would share this view."

Kris frowned. "You don't like the prince?"

Riagán was supposed to be the most gracious of the royal Sidhe—and one of he very few who actually liked humans. Though come to think of it that might be Baraz's problem.

"He is a prince of great ability and vast potential," Baraz said evenly.

"Don't pay any attention to him," Adam said. "Baraz doesn't like anyone."

"There are some few exceptions," Baraz said, giving Adam a small sideways smile.

"I guess I'm just lucky."

"I am grateful you are finally able to acknowledge your fortune in that, Highness."

Adam relaxed out of his defensive stance and placed a hand on Baraz's arm. "I do appreciate that, actually."

Baraz inclined his head and covered Adam's hand with his own. "I am sure your uncle will place the blame for what has happened on those who attacked you—and that, as I do, he will feel only gratitude that you are safe. Do not trouble yourself on that point."

Adam nodded although he looked far from convinced. The look Baraz gave him was filled with that mixture of affection and protectiveness that seemed to characterize all his interactions with Adam. Kris just wished he could trust it.

The portal flashed and then filled with a light-purple glow. One dark shape and then another oozed from the portal and took up a defensive stance on either side of it.

Kris tensed. He had forgotten about the Shadows. He had learned about them in the Division—mostly for completeness' sake. No one in the Division had seriously ever contemplated facing one of them. You couldn't fight a Shadow. They were the magical embodiment of Midwinter's darkest moment—silence and ice and the black of midnight cast into humanoid form. There was no way to stand against that—all you bought from fighting one was your own quick death. Fortunately for humanity beings that magical couldn't leave Faerie for more than a few hours at a time. These must be unusually dedicated to their prince if they'd been willing to come here at all.

The portal flashed again and a third stepped through. It could only be Riagán. He was tall and golden like his sister, and like Eilín his features were just a touch too sharp for human standards of beauty.

He strode forward with a glad cry and wrapped Adam in a tight hug. Adam for his own part just returned the gesture, clutching at his uncle with equal fervor.

Riagán took Adam's face between his hands and backed away slightly. "They did not tell me what had happened until I returned from China. I would have been here immediately had I known."

Adam took a shaky breath. "I know. I spoke with Mother."

Riagán gave him a final searching look but then dropped his hands. "She regretted that she was unable to leave the city herself. She has been very worried."

Adam nodded. The news made Kris think better of Adam's family. He hadn't been able to imagine where the hell they'd been through all of this.

Riagán finally seemed to notice there were others in the room.

He gave Allison an elaborate bow and kissed her hand. Allison actually blushed and batted her eyes at him. Adam exchanged a quick look with Kris and rolled his eyes.

"Baraz, a pleasure as always," Riagán said, tucking Allison's hand in his arm.

"Likewise," Baraz said. He did not, Kris noted, give him the full bow or the honorific he usually granted Adam. It might not be significant—although the sharp-edged tension between them said otherwise.

Riagán shook his head, unimpressed, and they all turned towards Kris.

Kris belatedly remembered his manners and offered Riagán his best bow. The brownies had been helping him practice but he still felt absurd.

"My family owes you a great debt for what you have done," Riagán said. "Do not think I will soon be forgetting that."

Up close Riagán shown with a light that nearly dazzled. Kris nodded, barely able to breath through the overwhelming sense of power radiating from him. Where Adam's magic seduced and enchanted, Riagán's appeared only to compel.

Riagán offered him his hand, a gesture damn near unheard of from the older Sidhe. Kris took it, still struggling just to think.

Riagán shook Kris's hand firmly, clapped him on the shoulder and then swept past, Adam and Allison on opposite arms.

"Are you well?" Baraz asked, taking his arm.

Kris blinked and realized they were quite alone. "I think so. What _was_ that?"

"That was Riagán."

At Kris's undoubtedly dazed look he pursed his lips and dropped his hand. "All royalty wear the mantle of Faerie. It can easily overwhelm if not controlled. Riagán has never dimmed its effects on those around him. Either he cannot, which is dangerous, or he will not, which is merely tawdry."

Kris looked down at the velvet and leather combo Adam's staff had stuffed him into in preparation for meeting Riagán. "I didn't really think tawdry was a bad thing around here."

A small smile touched the corner of Baraz's mouth. "In my experience, many things that are charming on Ailill wear thin very quickly on others—and even Ailill has better control over his magic than Riagán has ever demonstrated."

Kris massaged the tension that had sprung up at the base of his skull. "I thought Riagán was supposed to be popular."

Baraz nodded. "He has his finer qualities," he said, looking a bit sour. "He has always been generous and his loyalty to his family is unquestioned. He has long been a champion of Ailill, even when it granted him no advantage to do so."

Baraz gestured at the door. "Perhaps we could rejoin the others."

Kris followed him out into the hallway, a little uneasy. "Why are you telling me all of this? No offense, but you don't seem like the sharing is caring type."

Baraz looked faintly surprised. "I have satisfied myself that you have Ailill's best interests at heart. You can hardly be of any use to him if you are kept in ignorance. I cannot promise you complete transparency, but it costs me little to share information with you that is known to all in Faerie."

Kris mulled this over. It sounded reasonable, but Baraz always sounded reasonable.

"You don't trust me," Baraz said. He held up a hand. "It is wise of you. The fact that you have been sensible enough to distrust us all is one of the reasons I have trusted you with him."

They came to a great dining room. Adam was sitting next to Riagán at the head of the table, their heads leaned conspiratorially in together. Riagán said something in Adam's ear and Adam's gorgeous laugh rang out, free and easy. He looked happier than Kris had seen him in weeks.

"I do not think you entirely appreciate how very much you have been given," Baraz said.

Adam looked over and his face lit up. "Kris! I was wondering where you'd gone."

"I appreciate him just fine," Kris said, low and quick.

Baraz eyed him and then Adam before giving Kris a slight bow in acknowledgment.

Kris sat next to Allison in the chair they'd reserved for him at Adam's right. This left Baraz to take the place at Riagán's left across from Kris. He seemed less than pleased but acceded to the arrangement with his standard unbending grace.

Adam's "intimate family dinner" turned out to include a crowd of at least twenty. Kris supposed it was a small party by Embassy standards. They all pretty much ignored Kris as the dinner commenced—which was totally fine with him, really. Even Adam and Allison were too focused on Riagán's every word to pay him much attention.

The almost puppyish hero-worship on Adam's face was really kind of adorable. The fact that it seemed to irk Baraz was only a bonus.

He still couldn't quite look at Riagán without feeling a bit like he was staring at the sun. As little as he liked admitting it, he had to agree with Baraz that it was pretty annoying.

About halfway through the meal an apologetic servant appeared at Baraz's side. Baraz excused himself and then went to speak with the troll guard who lurked in the doorway. The conversation became increasingly heated though too low for Kris to hear.

"Baraz?" Riagán inquired mildly. "Is there something we should know?"

Baraz turned around slowly and faced Adam. Kris really, really did not like the look on his face.

"I am very sorry, Highness, but this cannot wait."

Two guards appeared, a chained prisoner between them. Upon seeing Adam, the prisoner broke free of the two guards and ran to kneel at his feet.

"Please, Highness, please, you know I am innocent. I could never hurt you, not you." He grabbed Adam's hand where it lay on the armrest and pressed his lips to it over and over.

Adam freed his hand and used it to push the matted hair out of the captured Sidhe's face, flinching when he saw the bruises on his face.

Kris recognized him. He was one of the three who'd followed Adam on the night of the Embassy party.

"Inir?" Adam said. "Baraz, what have you done?"

"He is the one who cast the spell that incapacitated you and the others. He invoked his right to petition the crown, or else he would be under further questioning even now."

Adam shook his head. "There has to be some mistake. He couldn't—it can't be him. You're wrong, Baraz."

"I would give very much for that to be so, Highness," Baraz said, honestly grieved. "But I am afraid there can be no mistake. We were able to locate the spot where you were taken. It was well hidden, but we were able to at last detect the signature of his magic on it."

The supplication on Inir's face turned to hatred and he leapt for one of the knives on the table. Kris grabbed his own and shoved his chair from the table, but not before Baraz gripped Inir by the throat and dragged him over to the wall. The Shadows drifted closer to Riagán but made no move against Inir.

" _Why?_ "

Riagán put his hand on Adam's wrist. "Does it matter? He is dead for what he has done, no matter the reason."

"It matters," Adam said. "To me, it matters."

Inir laughed, low and bitter. "Only you could ask that. You have so much power and yet you waste every bit of it on silly vanities. The last one of you founded an empire—you hold parties. Do you know what we could have done if we'd managed to take a tenth part of that for ourselves?"

"There were others?" Riagán asked, intent.

"As far as we can tell, Inir received instruction by invisible messenger and does not know who else is responsible. If he is lying, we will discover it. I will perform all further questioning myself," Baraz said.

"I understand why you wanted me," Adam said, pale but steady. "But Fearghas? And Sean and Ysabeau? What did they do to deserve any of this?"

Kris wished that Adam would stop asking these questions. Riagán was right—it couldn't matter now and Inir wasn't going to tell Adam anything that wouldn't just hurt him even more.

"Fearghas wasn't supposed to be there," Inir said. "The other two were necessary for practicing the spell."

He turned on Baraz, beautiful face twisted into something feral and ugly. "You could have taken part in our new empire. We would have let you fuck him, if that's what it would have taken. We all know that's what you're after—"

Baraz tightened his hold on Inir's throat, cutting off his air. "I think we have heard quite enough from you," he purred. "Although if you want to dance with me, Inir, I think you will find my card is free."

"Oh come now, Baraz," one of the nobles from further down the table said. "Far be it from me to quibble with your right to defend yourself from such a slur. But if you provoke him into challenging you, he will very quickly end up dead, and that would only rob our dear prince of his right to justice."

The rest of the table leaned forward and looked at Adam, faces bright with expectation.

"He must be punished, I think we all know—I'm sure you agree, Highness," the noble said. "An attack on the royal house cannot just be forgiven."

"Give him to me," Riagán said, voice rough with anger. "In the city there are those who live to deal with such as him. It will take him _years_ to die."

Adam looked at Inir for a long tense moment but then very obviously turned his face away. "Give him to the garden. He has weakened our defenses through his betrayal. Let him feed them in reparation."

A few of those sitting around the table flinched and Allison went very still beside him. The majority only sat back in satisfied pleasure, however.

Including Riagán. "I admit this fate pleases me. It pleases me very well," he said. "Let us open the doors to the garden so that we may enjoy his confession."

"Yes," Adam said. "I think that would be fitting."

Baraz's shoulders slumped ever so slightly, but he didn't hesitate in calling the troll guards over to reclaim their charge.

Inir started shouting as soon as they had hold of him. They could still hear him yelling long after they'd dragged him out.

The servants came in, smooth and efficient, opening the garden doors and bringing out the next course as if nothing had happened.

The food looked good, but it tasted like cardboard in Kris's mouth. When the screaming started twenty minutes later, Kris put his fork down and could only stare at his plate.

The sound of it, unrelenting and terrified, grated along Kris's whole being, conjuring up memories he'd thought carefully buried. It didn't seem as if a person could be in that amount of pain and live, but the screaming went on and on.

Kris knew from bitter personal experience how much pain a human was capable of withstanding—how much they could administer and how much they could endure. And he knew that the fey could survive a hundred times more. The screaming wasn't going to stop, not any time soon.

Allison stayed still and silent beside him, but the rest went on as merry and unconcerned as they'd been before the servant had interrupted.

Adam sprawled in his chair, as easy as the rest of them, laughing at some comment of his uncle's. He didn't even flinch when the screaming whipped up into a higher register. They'd warned him, Danny and Lil, but he'd been too arrogant to listen. He'd been so damn sure that Adam was _different_ , that he wasn't like that, that he wasn't the kind of person who could order someone's execution and then sit there eating chocolate mousse while they were tortured to death just outside.

He dug his fingers into his thigh and told himself he just needed to get through this nightmare dinner.

He never knew how long he sat there, whether it was half an hour or ten. Riagán at last stood up, offering his apologies to the assembled nobility.

"I regret I may not stay any longer," he said. "My guard must return to Faerie and Her Majesty will wish to be informed of what has gone on this night."

Kris followed them to the portal room as it seemed to be expected of him. Riagán gave Adam one last embrace and then disappeared through the portal with his guard.

Kris opened his mouth to ask for his own gate home—anything to be away from here.

Baraz dug his fingers hard into Kris's forearm. "I do not have time for your foolishness just now," he hissed. "Do not presume to think you understand a tenth of what has gone on here this night."

Adam just stared at the empty portal, seemingly oblivious to this exchange. "I probably should go back to the party."

"You will not be going back there," Baraz said in a tone that didn't really invite disagreement.

Adam turned to him, surprised.

"There are limits to how much I will indulge you, even in this. Perhaps especially in this."

"I ordered it," Adam said. "I can't just go off and hide now."

"Inir does not deserve any further attention from you. Not after what he did."

Adam shook his head. "It isn't about what he deserves. Not all of it."

Baraz crossed the room and gripped the back of Adam's neck. "I have told you, I will not allow you to do this to yourself. This twisted sense of honor of yours is the only thing that would demand it.

"Ailill-- _Adam_ \--do not do this. Please. For me, if you will not do it for yourself."

Adam looked off towards the portal again, but finally nodded. "You will explain my absence to the others?"

"I will give them as much explanation as I feel they are owed."

The smallest of smiles twisted Adam's mouth. "Which is to say, none."

"Go," Baraz said. "I will do what is required here."

Adam nodded and pressed Baraz's shoulder before turning for the door.

Baraz waited until he'd slipped out before rounding on Kris. "I cannot go with him at this time, so you must. This time try, _try_ to pay attention."

Kris didn't really have to be told twice.

He caught up with Adam halfway down the hall. Adam spared him a glance but didn't say anything their entire way back to his suite.

"Stay—stay here," Adam said when they'd reached the bedroom, sounding half-drunk. Adam lurched into the bathroom, but didn't manage to get the door entirely closed. A minute later Kris heard the sound of Adam being violently ill.

Jesus, Kris thought, collapsing into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. He didn't know if he should go in there or if yet another audience was the last thing Adam needed right now. He sat there, paralyzed by indecision. He heard the toilet flushing and then only silence for a long time.

He got up and tentatively pushed the bathroom door open. Adam sat in a shivering huddle on the floor, head lying on his drawn-up knees.

"Adam?" Kris said, kneeling beside him.

"I'm such a _liar_ ," Adam said, not lifting his head. "Me, a prince, god it's such a fucking joke." He laughed, low and bitter, although Kris didn't see what was so funny. "They all know it, too. And they push and they push and they push."

Kris tried laying a hand on Adam's shoulder, but Adam shoved it off with such violence he let it drop.

"I'll have someone take you home," Adam said. "I just . . . I can't. Not now."

"I don't want to go home," Kris said, infinitely grateful now that Baraz had stopped him earlier. "I want you to talk to me."

Adam lifted his head, eyes wild. "God, _why?_ "

"I need to understand this."

Adam hauled himself to his feet, jerking away from Kris when he tried to help him again. "Don't, just don't."

He brushed his teeth, once, twice, again, scrubbing violently enough to draw blood.

"Adam, stop, you have to stop this," Kris said.

Adam gripped the edge of the counter, letting his head drop down. "You say you want to understand what happened. It's not that complicated. I ordered someone to one of the worst deaths we know. Someone I fucked just last week. That's what happened."

"He tried to kill you. He did kill three other people."

"You really don't get it, do you? What's happening to him. The garden will grow into him, will send its roots into every inch of his body, his brain, until all of his body, all that he is will be open to its magic. And then it will start to consume him. By morning it will own every thought, every memory he ever had. An effective method of interrogation, I'm sure you'll agree."

"And what would have happened if you'd given him to Riagán? Wouldn't that have been worse?"

Adam flinched but at least he raised his eyes enough to meet Kris's in the mirror. "I saw you, I saw what you were thinking. You don't have to pretty it up now."

"You think that's the first time I've seen anything like that?" Kris said, his voice strange even in his own ears. "I was in a war. I killed—God, I don't even know how many."

Adam jerked upright, but Kris fell back a step, at last unable to push away the memories that had been fighting to emerge all night.

"They didn't want to fight anyone—half of them were just children." Everyone had known those pathetic, terrified fey didn't really pose a threat to anyone, but at that point the war had gone far beyond any considerations of mercy. The worst of the early atrocities committed by Thistleaf's army had been in northern Texas. They all knew there could be no quarter. Not there.

It was the screaming Kris remembered. The enemy fey had cast so many layers of illusion you couldn't know what was real, just try to cast one defensive spell after another in a losing battle to keep them out of your head. Their lines had dissolved almost immediately, half of his companions lost to some nightmare only they could see.

"We just had to keep shooting—we didn't even know what we were killing, if it was anything real." The fey in the Division had taken the brunt of it, absorbing the worst of the enemies' spells until at last the humans broke through the outer defenses. Kris remembered just emptying and reloading until he was out of ammo. That was when he'd pulled out his knife.

"I'm the last person who should be judging you," he said.

He felt Adam yank him into a hard, tight hug. He curled his fists in Adam's shirt, burying his head against Adam's shoulder.

"Oh, baby, I'm so, so sorry," Adam said against his hair. "No one should have to go through that."

"I just couldn't face them," Kris said into Adam's shoulder. "Not after what I did. I had to leave, I had to."

Kris knew he was making absolutely no sense, but Adam just kept up the comforting sweep of his hand up and down Kris's spine.

"Of course you did," he said. "Of course you had to leave. Anyone could understand that."

Kris curled his fists tighter into the fabric of Adam's shirt and thought if he could just stay here for a lifetime or two it might be okay. With Adam's arms strong and sure around him and the edges of his long leather coat wrapped around Kris's shoulders it almost felt like the rest of the world didn't have to exist for a while.

After a while Adam pulled back slightly. Kris started to protest, but Adam soothed him with another sweep of his hand.

"Shh, I'm not going anywhere. Do you want to tell me about it?" he asked, his eyes searching Kris's face. "You can tell me-- _anything_."

"Yeah," Kris said, surprising himself with just how much he did want to tell him. "Just maybe not right now, okay?"

"Okay," Adam said earnestly. "But any time you want to talk to me, you tell me, okay? I don't care what I'm doing."

Kris nodded and was rewarded by being pulled back against Adam.

He heard footsteps on the carpet outside and tensed up again, but it was only Allison.

"Are you two all right?" she asked.

"No," Adam said, "I don't think we are."

"Can I stay with you?" she asked, voice small.

"Of course you can, honey," Adam said. "We just need to get changed. And I need to get this makeup off or I'm not going to be very pretty tomorrow morning."

Kris snorted into Adam's shoulder. "I can see where your priorities are."

"A proper skincare regimen is important, Kristopher," Adam said crisply.

Kris let himself be untangled from Adam.

"I think I might have ruined your shirt," he said, eyeing the poor sad sequins that had been ripped from their place and were now hanging by twisted threads.

"I hate this shirt," Adam said.

"It's black and has sequins. And glitter. You love that shirt," Kris said.

"I have lots of shirts," Adam said. "There is only one you." Kris had to turn away before he did something really stupid like kiss him.

He waited while Adam went through his now-familiar night-time cleaning ritual. Adam eyed him in the mirror but didn't say anything while Kris watched him remove one layer after another. When Adam at last shrugged out of his coat and reached for the collar of his shirt Kris had to flee back out into the relative safety of the bedroom.

The fey had stocked clothing for Kris in one corner of Adam's giant closet. He left his velvet costume in a heap on the floor and pulled on a t-shirt and sweatpants, immediately feeling a lot more like himself.

He found Adam and Allison on the bed when he returned to the room, Allison curled up along Adam's side. Adam held out a hand and Kris settled against his opposite side, his head pillowed on Adam's broad shoulder. Adam took up the long slow strokes of Kris's spine again. Kris felt completely worn out if not entirely sleepy and it was easy to relax into Adam's comfortable warmth.

"Talk to me, honey," Allison said after they'd been quiet for a while.

"I think he's asleep," Adam said. "I don't want to wake him."

"He'll be okay," Allison said, though more quietly this time. "I'm more concerned with you right now."

"I . . . I _liked_ him. I thought . . . God, I don't even know what I was thinking now. I knew it was probably one of them, but not him."

"None of us suspected him," Allison said. Kris felt her wrap herself more tightly around Adam.

"He said there were others," Adam said. "It could be any of them, couldn't it? It could be all of them."

Kris wanted to lift his head, tell Adam he didn't have to worry about that, because there was no fucking way Kris was letting any of those people anywhere near him ever again. He didn't think it would help anyone but himself, though.

"It isn't anyone in this room," Allison said. "You can trust that. And you can trust Baraz. He found Inir and he'll find the rest of them. You know that."

"I guess."

"Well, you can at least trust no one's getting to you tonight. They'd have to go through me first. They'd be stupid to even try."

Kris felt Adam's suppressed laughter under his hand. "Is that so?"

"You know it is. So you might as well get some sleep."

"Thanks, baby," Adam said.

Allison settled down beside Adam again and Kris waited for a long while until Adam's breathing settled out.

He opened his eyes to find Allison looking at him.

"I'm going to find the people behind this," he said.

"Correction, soldier boy, we're going to find them. You're not the only one who gets to worry about him."

Kris wanted to protest but the truth was he did need someone on this side of things to help him out. And she was right—he didn't have the right to tell her to keep out of it.

"Okay," Kris said. "It'll be the two of us, then."

~*~*~*~*~

Kris sat at an out of the way table, nursing his second beer. Anoop had been singing for about a half-hour now. He didn't think he'd have much longer to wait.

Kris had been coming to Giraud's for a while now. When he'd first come to LA, his music had been so tied up with everything he'd been trying to leave behind he hadn't even wanted to look at his guitar. But then Lil had dragged him out here for moral support when she'd decided to sing at one of their open mike nights. Kris had liked the atmosphere and had been coming a few times a month ever since.

Anoop had started performing about six months ago. He had a mellow, layered vocal style that Kris usually enjoyed listening to, but it wasn't his music that had drawn Kris here tonight.

He waived to the waitress to bring another round. He'd told Allison he was following a lead. He'd arranged it for a night when she'd have to stay at the Embassy to keep an eye on Adam. He wasn't entirely sure she'd approve of his line of investigation for the night and he thought it best to go solo on this one. It helped that keeping her occupied meant the same for Adam. What Allison's reaction might be was a question, but Kris knew damn well Adam would be angry if he knew what Kris was up to.

Anoop slipped into the seat opposite Kris. "What's up, man? Matt said you wanted to see me."

"I need your professional opinion on something."

Anoop's graduate research was in the new urban legends that sprang up in the buffer zones between the wild fey lands and the ones controlled by humans. Folklore wasn't precisely what Kris was interested in, but if anyone in his acquaintance had any of the information he wanted, Anoop was it.

Anoop blinked in surprise. "You're having an anthropological emergency? That has to be a first."

Kris settled back in his chair and aimed for casual. "Do you know of a Sidhe named Baraz?"

Anoop jolted half out of his chair. " _Baraz?_ Shit, Kris, what the hell have you gotten into?"

"Lil charmed a big donation out of Prince Ailill at some soiree she went to last week. Baraz brought the check over a few days ago. Let's just say he made an impression." Kris didn't like lying to Anoop, but he liked the idea of getting Anoop involved in the rest of it even less.

Anoop settled back into his chair. "Yeah, that makes sense. I heard Ailill tends to be pretty involved with his charity projects. Baraz was probably just making sure you're legit before he let his pet prince have anything to do with you."

"I'm guessing you have heard of him, then," Kris said, trying not to react to the "pet prince" bit.

"Yeah—I mean everyone's _heard_ of him. The problem is we don't know anything about him, not for certain. Even by Sidhe standards his background is pretty fuzzy."

Kris drew a circle in the condensation left by his beer glass. "Can you tell me anything I should know?"

Anoop shrugged. "All we know is the rest of them are afraid of him. Or not afraid of him—more like in awe of him. Like he's the fey version of George Washington or something. As far as we can tell, he doesn't have any lands of his own, but they all treat him like he's one of their most powerful lords. Hell, we don't even think his real name is Baraz. We think he came to America from the fey kingdom in northern Iran about two centuries ago, but that's just a guess."

"That's all you have on him?"

Anoop frowned. "There might be something—I mean, I think it's completely crazy, but my advisor thinks he might be the Wandering Prince."

That didn't sound too promising. "You're going to have to help me out here."

"The Wandering Prince is like _the_ story—the one a lot of the other stories are based on. Like King Arthur and Troy and half the quest stories and even the Bible—you can find pieces of all of them in there."

Anoop paused and gave him a skeptical look. "Are you sure you want to hear this? Like I said, it's pretty out there."

"It sounds like it," Kris said, although he had a sinking feeling it wasn't so crazy after all. "But protecting that place is my job, and if this guy's some fey version of Dracula I need to hear about it."

Anoop shook his head. "No, not Dracula. It's been a while since I've studied it, but I can tell you the broad points."

Kris made a vague gesture for him to continue.

"The way the Sidhe tell it, back in the beginning the world was a bigger place and we could travel to lands lost to us now. One of these lands was the place where the sun went to rest every night after its journey across the sky. They called it the Summerlands. It was like the fey garden of Eden. Back then fey and humans lived together in harmony and they worked together to create a great city full of learning and art."

"The Prince lived in this city?" Kris said.

"Yeah, he ruled it," Anoop said. "One day he met with a delegation from the neighboring human kingdom who'd come looking for suitors for their princess. The Prince took one look at her portrait and was supposed to be stricken mad with love for her.

"But a princess that beautiful gets a lot of suitors. Seven kings besides the Prince sought her hand. So her father sent them on quests all over the earth—to the edge of the great sea to capture a fallen star, to fetch a perfect apple from the tree of life, that sort of thing. After seven years of unimaginable toil, the Prince was the only one who'd endured and he was given his princess at last."

Anoop paused to drink from his beer.

"I'm guessing they didn't get to happily ever after," Kris said.

"No," Anoop said. "They were only supposed to have had a few years together. When the Prince was off on a hunting expedition, a group of bandits attacked the city and killed the princess. The Prince avenged her but couldn't bear to return to his city and went out into the human world. But while he was gone, a human army took advantage of his absence to attack the city, killing or capturing everyone who lived in his lands. The Summerlands were so grieved they closed their gates to all but the Prince, who now rules an empty stone city full of ghosts.

"The Sidhe say that one day the Summerlands will relent and open their gates again. They think that on that day the Prince will lead them away from this world and all that has been lost will be returned to them."

Kris frowned. He'd known he wasn't going to like this story. "You're right, that does sound a little crazy."

Anoop shrugged one shoulder. "Yeah, mythology like that is not really my area, but I can't think what a dude like that would be doing living in LA."

Kris tried on a smile. "Probably not handing out checks to human charities. Doesn't sound like it's something I should worry about."

"Look, Baraz was probably just marking his territory. Rumor in the department is that Baraz has been bargaining with Eilín for years for our fair prince's hand."

Wait, wait, _what?_ "They're _engaged_?"

"Not yet anyway," Anoop said. "Not that we know why, but Ailill is something special to them—I mean more than just the fact that he's royalty. I guess the competition is pretty fierce. It could explain why Baraz is so possessive."

Anoop turned and signaled for another round. "Is that all you wanted to know?"

It wasn't, not by a long shot, but Kris thought asking anything more would look suspicious. "Yeah. Thanks."

Anoop leaned forward. "So, what did you think about the chord changes in the Lauper piece?"

"It was an interesting choice. I think I liked it, though," Kris said, struggling to drag his mind back to Anoop's set.

Anoop nodded enthusiastically. "I think I'm going back to Bobby Brown next week."

Kris groaned. "No, just no."

"I have to. It's what the people want."

"I think your polling methods might be a little flawed."

"No, man," Anoop said, laughing. "It'll be epic."

Kris listened to Anoop's dubious explanation of how New Jack Swing was due for a comeback. He usually enjoyed talking music with Anoop, but it was hard to keep his head in the conversation.

He needed to talk to Allison. Soon.

~*~*~*~*~

The theme of the party seemed to be the Scarlet Pimpernel meets the apocalypse. Adam stood there in his brocade waistcoat and immaculate hose and breeches patiently enduring the final attentions of the small army devoted to his appearance. One knelt in front of him, frowning direly at the giant bows on his clunky heeled shoes, while a pixie pulled his blue-streaked hair into even higher spikes. There was another unidentified bony wisp of a thing carefully drawing silver spikes around the three sapphires they'd glued in an arc high on his right cheekbone and a fourth was fussing with the elaborate tie of his cravat.

Watching Adam getting ready for an event was something of a spectator sport. Kris chose a spot on the divan and observed the entire process with slightly boggled amusement. He couldn't really complain about the view. He was definitely developing an altogether new appreciation for the fit of well tailored breeches. He might also have to reconsider his thoughts on cravats. There were a few girls from back in high-school whom he definitely understood much better now.

Adam's black leather brocade jacket was still being worked on by the new designer of the hour. Kris supposed it probably shouldn't be a shock when Adam introduced minor celebrities as old friends but it took some getting used to. Cassidy at least seemed remarkably low key for Hollywood.

Cassidy finally gave up on whatever he was doing to Adam's futuristic frock coat thing and condescended to have Adam model it for him. The leather clung very nicely to the broad planes of Adam's back, but even Kris could see the high collar was uneven. Cassidy sighed in violent despair and wrenched it off again.

Adam dismissed the fluttering crowd around him and took a seat next to Kris. He looked, as always when it came to these affairs, like half a stranger. His eyes seemed bigger and more mysterious under all the makeup and the black beauty mark someone had pasted near his red-painted mouth was really very distracting.

Adam looked longingly at the beer in Kris's hand. "They never have any food at these things," he said. "I think they really do believe that faeries live on raindrops and glitter."

"You want?" Kris said, offering Adam a sip.

"I'll ruin my make-up," Adam said, sighing. He looked a lot more deflated than Kris would have expected after two hours of playing dress up. He plucked disconsolately at the frothy lace flowing down to his fingertips and then sighed again.

"You look nice," Kris said. Nice didn't really begin to describe it, but Kris didn't think they'd actually invented a word for Adam yet, so it would have to do.

"You think so?" Adam perked up. He gave Kris a long sideways look. "You could come, you know. I'm sure we could find an extra coat for you somewhere."

"Fuck that," Cassidy yelled from across the room. "You can get that thought out of your head right now. If he goes with you he'll end up with his picture in all the papers and I don't want people thinking I'm responsible for that thing he's wearing right now." He looked up and gave Kris a broad wink. "It's not that I wouldn't like to get my hands on that body, but I don't have the mental energy right now to whip up something not completely hideous. Genius takes time."

"I have plans with Allison, anyway," Kris said. "There's some movie she wants to see."

They were not actually seeing a movie, but telling Adam their real agenda would probably be nothing short of disastrous.

"You're stealing Allison from me, too? All of my favorite people are abandoning me." Adam flopped against the back of the couch and pouted fantastically.

"Poor little prince," Cassidy said. "Your life is so difficult."

"You could ditch," Kris said, nudging Adam's knee with his foot.

Adam's head popped up. "Seriously?"

"No," Cassidy said. "Not seriously. Do you know how much of my life is in this coat?"

"Yes seriously," Kris said, throwing a quelling look at Cassidy. "Come out with us. Someone needs to buy the popcorn—might as well be you."

It would throw a real wrench in their plans, but it might be worth it. Adam had been tense and unhappy about all Embassy affairs since the night with Inir. It wasn't hard to figure out why, but Kris didn't enjoy watching it.

"I probably shouldn't," Adam said, face crinkling.

"Look, beautiful," Cassidy said, frowning. "You don't want to go, don't go. You can wear this to the ball next week—or, hell, never. I don't care. I don't need my favorite muse losing his sparkle."

"I couldn't disappoint people. Noblesse oblige and all that," Adam said, sighing. He stood up and straightened the lines of his waistcoat. "Is the coat finished?"

Cassidy fitted him back into the jacket. He frowned at it again, but whatever he'd just done seemed to have worked because the collar was straight. Adam picked up a silver-handled cane and struck a few poses in the mirror.

"You know you look amazing," Cassidy said, though it was with a smile. "You can stop preening now."

He did—look amazing that is. Just extravagant and ridiculous and gorgeous all at once.

"My compliments on your work, Mr. Haley," Baraz said from the doorway. "You have outdone yourself."

Baraz crossed the room to Adam looking like he'd just stepped out of an 18th century drawing room. Knowing Baraz, the entire thing had probably been woven by actual 18th century French artisans from silk that had been grown in the fey kingdom of eastern Ch'in and transported to Europe by unicorns. The deep blue of his outfit complimented Adam's black and silver without being obvious about it—as he had no doubt planned.

Kris tried to see if he could look at Baraz and see this immortal legend Anoop had told him about, but Baraz just exuded the same unruffled perfection he always did.

Baraz made a small adjustment of the diamond clustered pin in the center of Adam's cravat, instantly making the whole thing look better. The gesture had the easy intimacy of long familiarity—the kind of familiarity someone like a fiancée would feel entitled to.

"Thank you," Adam said, smiling at Baraz. Kris told himself he wasn't going to be irritated that it was Adam's first real smile of the afternoon.

"I look forward to rejoining you at Lady Abdul's gathering," Baraz said to Cassidy. Cassidy took the dismissal for what it was and made his exit, though not without a final considering look at Adam.

"Mr. Haley was correct," Baraz said. "If you do not desire to attend tonight's festivities, there is no reason to compel yourself. I have told you before, it is for them to conform themselves to your will, not the reverse."

Adam grimaced. "If the media is going to call me a diva, I'd rather it be for reasons they fabricated. It'll confuse them if they have to report the truth after all this time."

He turned to Kris. "Are you sure you'll be all right with Allie? I hate to just leave you here."

"I've lived in this city for a while, you know. I think I can handle going to the movies."

The assessing look Baraz gave Kris was tinged at its edges by a palpable amusement. "Mr. Allen has proven himself capable in the past. I anticipate no problems from his plans for the evening."

Adam gave the lace at his cuffs one final fluff. "We should probably be going then."

A crowd of fey awaited them in the hallway, each wearing increasingly bizarre variations on Adam's ensemble. Adam took the hand of his escort for the evening—a tawny Sidhe boy decked out in a leather and lace ballgown and a tall purple Marie Antoinette wig. Kris watched while the entire bright company got into honest to God carriages and road off down the drive.

He found Allison back in Adam's suite as expected. That was about all that was expected.

Allison wore a short fringy emerald green dress whose plunging neckline only managed to look semi-reasonable by how low the dress dipped in the back.

"I'm guessing there's a coat that goes with that?" Kris said.

Allison rolled her eyes, which was about what he'd been expecting. "If anyone's wardrobe needs work, it's yours, cowboy. We're going to The Sithen, not an all you can eat barbecue."

She stalked over to Adam's wardrobe and sifted through the clothes that had been left there for him.

"Does Adam seem a little off to you?" he asked.

She pulled out a pair of dark jeans and a black long sleeved shirt and threw it at him. "I think everything's just starting to get to him. Having to distrust everyone he knows isn't really in his nature."

The shirt had a subtle silver glint in the weave and was slightly see-through, but it looked better on than he'd have anticipated.

Allison tapped her foot and gave him a once over. "You look more like Adam's boyfriend than mine, but it'll have to do."

"You think Adam would like this?"

But she just rolled her eyes at him again. " _Boys_. You're lucky you're pretty."

On that encouraging note, she led the way to her car. It looked like a classic Mustang, but instead of turning on the ignition Allison just told it the address of their destination and the car started driving down the drive on its own.

"Do all faerie cars do that?" Kris asked, clutching at the door handle.

Allison shrugged. "Pretty much. The fey up north appreciate human technology but they don't really get it. We have TV and computers and stereos and all that like you do, but it just runs on magic."

"Were you able to find out anything this week?" Kris asked, hoping the car at least wasn't being monitored.

"I watched Baraz's office like you asked," she said, looking conflicted. "He met with the staff a bunch of times and a couple of messengers from the Queen."

"And?" Kris said, knowing there was more.

"Lord Cowell came twice and he wasn't happy when he left," she said, deflated. "But I still think you're wrong about Baraz. It just couldn't be him. I don't believe it."

"And I don't think we can afford to trust him."

Allison sank down into her seat, as unhappy as when he'd first asked her to keep an eye on Baraz.

Kris didn't really enjoy pushing her on this but she was the only help he had. "Can you tell me what his relationship with Adam is?"

"You'll have to ask Adam about that," she said.

He sighed. "Allison."

But she shook her head. "I just don't know, all right? None of us do, really. Baraz does what Baraz wants and it's always been useless to figure out why. He came down here when Adam first moved into the Embassy. Adam's pretty young for a prince and the others try to take advantage of that sometimes—you've seen it. Baraz, well, he made things a lot easier just by siding with Adam on a lot of things and I know Adam's pretty grateful to him for it."

Which told him something about where Adam's head was on Baraz but, as per usual, not a damn thing about Baraz himself.

The car swung through the theater district, the bright displays outside each theater as blinding as ever.

And there, on a giant billboard announcing the upcoming Shakespeare revival was a familiar swoop of blonde hair. But it couldn't be . . . it just _couldn't_.

The car whipped around a corner and the display fell out of sight. Kris settled back into his seat, almost certain he was imagining things. There were a thousand blondes in LA. There was no way it could be her. His mother would have told him, surely.

The car slid smoothly into a parking space and Kris had to pull his thoughts into the present. He didn't think they were going to get a second chance at this.

The Sithen was new, expensive and in demand. And it had been in a dark alley just behind the place on his way to a discrete waiting car that Adam and his friends had been grabbed.

Kris sidled up beside Allison in the long line waiting for the door.

Allison slid an arm around his waist and he tightened up, entirely unsure of where to put his hands.

"You're supposed to be my boyfriend, not my out of town cousin," Allison hissed.

"Just tell me 'big brother Adam' doesn't actually know how to turn people into frogs and I'll be fine," Kris said, at last finding what he hoped was an inoffensive spot on her shoulder to put his hand.

"Adam knows that I'm an adult," Allison said. At his continued awkwardness she heaved a sigh. "I'm 21 okay? Completely legal even in that backwards country you come from. And no, Adam doesn't turn people into frogs. Although if you wanted to punch that creep behind us, I think I could manage to be okay with that."

Kris glared over his shoulder at the mouth breather lurking about two inches behind Allison. Allison giggled into Kris's neck as the guy backed off in panic and all of a sudden standing there with her wasn't nearly so awkward.

More than half of those in line were turned away at the door, but Allison got them in with a flirtatious smile and a quick press of bills into the bouncer's hand.

"The bartender who was here that night is supposed to be up on the second level tonight," Allison said, pulling at his hand.

Allison wanted to head right over to the bar, but Kris kept them on the dance floor, wary of being watched. The guy they were interested was fey and not of a type Kris encountered before. He looked mostly like what would happen if someone took rain water and pressed it into human shape. He moved behind the bar with the same flippant competence Kris had become accustomed to since coming out here, but there still seemed something jittery about him. After about a half-hour, a new bartender appeared and the fey they were interested in slipped out a side door.

Kris pulled Allison after, singing a few quick bars of an unlocking spell before pushing through the side door and out onto a fire escape.

The fey looked up, startled. "Don't you read? Employees only."

"We're not here for a drink," Allison said.

His features flowed into something angrier as he backed up a step. "Hey, I told the other ones. I don't know anything else."

"There were others?" Kris asked.

"Yeah, those fuckers from up on the hill already came down here, throwing their weight around. I'm telling you what I told them—I don't know jack about any spell that went down here that night."

"You're lying," Allison said. "You're the one who told them to check out the back alley."

"I just don't want any trouble," the fey said.

"And we're not trying to make any for you," Kris said, trying to project reassurance. "We just want some information."

The fey looked back and forth between them. "And then you'll go?"

"And then we'll go." Kris nodded at Allison. He'd shown her a few images from his memories of the night Adam had been taken. It had taken him an hour to cast the spell to dredge them up, but Allison recreated them with just a wave of her hand.

She flipped through the images one by one.

"Wait, that guy. They asked about him, too." It was the man who'd wielded the knife. "He was here a few times talking to some Sidhe kid."

The fey made a gesture of his own and a hazy image of Inir appeared.

"Show him the rest of them," Kris said. Kris thought they were going to get through the rest without anything useful, but the fey told Allison to stop at the end and go through the last few images again.

"That one," the fey said, pointing to Kris's memory of one of the border guards. "He was here another night I think. But he wasn't talking to a Sidhe."

He gestured again and this time the image was of a brownie. The face wasn't familiar, but the tense, brittle anger in his expression was.

"You recognize him?" Kris asked Allison.

"No," she said, "but I have his image now."

"I gave you something new," the fey said. "And now you're gonna let me go, right?"

"Just one more thing," Kris said. "This fire escape – does it go down to the back alley?"

"Sure, yeah."

Kris stepped aside as the fey pushed back inside.

"I think that brownie might be from out east," Kris said. "From the border, I mean."

She nodded. "There have been a lot of them out here the last few years. They aren't welcome up north and the human lands aren't safe for them. I've learned to recognize the look."

She put a hand on his arm. "You were in the war, weren't you? We've learned to recognize that look, too."

He nodded and let her give him a quick hug.

"I hate to ask," she said. "I know Adam wouldn't want me to, but if I gave you a copy of the image do you think you could ask your old contacts to see if anyone knows him?"

"They weren't really concerned with who they were fighting so long as they died," Kris said. "But yeah, I'll ask."

He followed her down the ladder to the alley below. He thought he'd have fallen to his death in those heels, but she just scampered down with typical fey indifference to things like gravity.

Sometimes it was really hard not to resent them just a little.

They spent a good while searching, although Kris wasn't really expecting to find much. It had been close to two months now and Baraz would probably have disrupted most traces of any spell in his own search even putting aside the possibility he'd deliberately obliterated them to obscure his own tracks.

The place still gave off an aura of subtle rot, a scratching feeling at the back of his head that told him something very wrong had happened here.  
"Kris," Allison said, "I think you better come over here."

She stood in the darkest corner of the alley, far away from the dim light over the back entrance to the club or from the more general glow from the main street.

He crossed over to her but didn't immediately see what had caught her attention. She took his hand and then he felt it; the faintest brush of winter and the slide of old hatred across his skin.

"There's only one thing that leaves that kind of signature," Allison said. "A Shadow."

"Baraz didn't mention anything about a Shadow. You'd think that would have been the first thing he'd find." Adam was with Baraz right now. He'd been alone in that carriage with him, just that pretty toy for company. Kris should never have let him go anywhere without Allison at least.

But she shook her head. "Baraz probably couldn't have sensed it and he's much too arrogant to think to ask for help. The Sidhe think their magic is stronger than everyone's, but even they have their limits." She raised a hand and fire danced along her finger tips. "The Shadows are made from Midwinter. Some of us are more sensitive to the absence of heat than others."

"The Shadows are mercenaries, right? We already know whoever's behind this is willing to hire out some pretty ugly magic. I don't know how much this tells us."

"You don't understand," she said. "The Shadows—they can go to the Embassy because it exists half in Faerie. Them coming here? It should be impossible."

~*~*~*~*~

Kris sat on the couch working through a new song that had been playing around in the back of his head for a few days. It had been a while since he'd done a lot of writing, but Adam made an easy audience. He seemed to appreciate Kris's musical instincts but he was also critical enough that Kris didn't have to worry about being flattered.

He cast a sideways glance at Adam, wondering once again if it might not be time to tell him what he'd found with Allison. He could well imagine what Adam's reaction to his taking Allison down to The Sithen would be—but Allison and Kris were running into nothing but dead ends in their investigation of the Shadows and it might be time to admit defeat. Adam was royalty—if he didn't have more information on the Shadows himself his family at least did.

Adam flopped down on the couch and put a cold pack on his forehead.

"Is the song that bad or is something bothering you?" Kris asked.

Adam lifted the cold pack and glared at him. "Your illustrious leader sent over a list of approved stories for the play we're trying to put on. I fought with him for _hours_ after dinner."

"Do I even want to ask?"

Adam shoved a piece of paper into his hand. Kris scanned it once but nothing leapt out as too terrible. Though maybe the Bible stories weren't a great choice. "It doesn't look that bad to me. I mean, it's mostly just fairy tales. He probably thought you'd like that."

"Sleeping Beauty? Rapunzel?" Adam looked at him like he'd grown a second head. "It's a _children's play_. My kids would have nightmares for weeks."

Kris almost asked what was wrong with Rapunzel before he decided he didn't want his childhood totally ruined. "I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it."

"Maybe," Adam sniffed. He scrunched up his face. "Although, I don't really like to judge. If Danny's into that sort of thing, I know some very nice girls who-"

"Danny doesn't want any girls," Kris said, thinking it best to cut off that thought before its inevitably terrifying conclusion.

Adam tilted his head. "Boys then? I wouldn't have thought so, but then it would make sense of some of those times I caught him looking at me."

Kris put the guitar down. "What do you mean Danny's been _looking_ at you?"

Adam looked at him like he didn't know whether to laugh or pet his head. "Slow down there, killer. I think I know how to deal with confused straight boys by now."

Confused straight boys, right. Except Kris didn't feel confused. At least not about wanting him. Frustrated, yeah. He'd thought that afternoon in the garden they'd maybe been having a moment of some sort. But now after Inir and Anoop's rumors about Baraz, Kris thought the last thing Adam needed was someone else trying to climb into bed with him. Kris didn't even know if Adam could say no to him—not with that spell binding them together. And the thought of that—God, he'd cut off his hand before he touched Adam like that.

"Hey, are you all right?" Adam said.

Kris shook his head, trying to clear away that line of thought. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Adam slid closer and put his hand on Kris's shoulder—which didn't actually help. "Seriously—you're looking a bit grey."

Kris thought it over—it probably was as good a time as any. "There's something I need to talk to you about and I don't know if you'll like it."

"You know you can ask me anything."

Well, it was now or never. "Are you engaged to Baraz?"

Adam's concerned expression crumpled up and he bent over, laughing. "God, I thought it was something serious."

"I was being serious."

Adam sat up and wiped the corners of his eyes with the heel of his hand. "Where did you hear that—the Inquirer? If you wanted to know about my love life there are better sources."

Kris felt himself blushing. "I wasn't reading tabloids about you. Someone just said he's been negotiating for it or something."

Adam snorted. "If Baraz asked my mother for me she'd hand me over in a hot minute. He doesn't need to negotiate."

That couldn't be right. "She would just do that?"

Adam shrugged one shoulder. "Princes are a dime a dozen. Baraz is—well he's pretty much one of a kind."

"Doesn't that bother you?" It bothered him. A lot. The idea of someone just _buying_ Adam like he was just an expensive accessory.

"I know it probably seems strange to you," Adam said. "But it really just goes with the territory. And I get to say no. She would never force me, if it was someone I really hated."

"It still doesn't seem right."

"I don't know," Adam said. "It could be nice, you know—to be married? To have someone to take care of, someone you could try to make a life with."

He had that stupid hopeful look on his face, like he could just make things turn out all right if he believed hard enough that they would. Kris didn't know if he wanted to hug him or give him a good slap.

"I guess I'm just glad I'm not a prince," he said.

Adam smiled, eyes crinkling up at the corners. "There are a few perks."

A hard insistent pounding on the door jolted the both of them.

"You expecting someone?" Kris asked.

Adam shook his head.

"Go in the bedroom," Kris said.

"What? No. I am not just leaving you out here alone."

"It's probably just someone from the house, but if it isn't I'm going to have an easier time defending myself if I don't have to worry about you." Kris got up and scouted the room for defensive positions. He still wasn't used to this new layout. "Now, go in the bedroom."

Adam looked unhappy but did as he was told.

Kris grabbed a knife from the kitchen and slid over to the door.

The knocking came again, twice as hard. Kris opened the door, leaving the chain on.

Danny stood in the unflattering light of the porch lamp.

"What took you so long?" Danny said.

Kris exhaled in relief. Maybe he was being naïve, but he didn't think there was magic in existence that could so exactly copy Danny's peevishness.

"You can come out," he called to Adam, closing the door long enough to take off the chain.

Danny pushed his way in, blinking a little at the knife in Kris's hand.

"Don't you think that's a little excessive?"

Kris jerked his head at Adam. "Yeah, it's not like we have a reason to worry about mysterious banging on our door in the middle of the night or anything. Haven't you heard of a phone?"

Danny glanced at Adam, a little guilty. "Right, sorry. I need your help and it wasn't anything I wanted to talk about on the phone."

Kris turned to Adam. "You'd better stay here."

But Danny shook his head. "No, I think he better come too."

Danny led the way across the lawn. "A woman showed up at the outside gates about a half-hour ago. You know we usually never open the gates this late, but she looked like she was in so much trouble Ron let her in."

"What's wrong with her?" Kris asked.

"I think you'll have to see for yourself."

The woman lay on a cot in the new wing, apparently unconscious. Her thin chest rose and fell in quick shallow pants and sweat beaded her forehead. Kris turned to Danny to ask why she wasn't in the hospital when he thought he saw something out of the corner of his eye.

"Watch," Danny said.

Kris thought at first he was imagining it, but there it was again, a spidery line of silver light that etched its way across her cheek before disappearing beneath her hair. Another appeared on her forearm, extending a few inches before fading out again.

"Is this wing empty?" Adam said.

"You know what that is?" Danny asked.

Adam pulled them to the side. "All I know is she's leaking pure magic. Enough so that I'm betting even you can see it."

Danny took a sharp indrawn breath. "It's dangerous?"

"A human body isn't capable of holding that kind of power. Not for long." Adam turned to Kris. "Do you know any spells for containing magical explosions? It'd do for now."

"Yeah, a few.

"Danny," Adam said, "there's no reason for you to be here. If there's anyone else in this wing you should take them and go."

"The wing's empty. We put her here because we haven't finished the renovations," Danny said. "And you're wrong. I can make sure she knows she's not alone. That's more than enough reason for me to be here."

Danny crossed his arms, radiating that peculiar brand of earnest mulishness that so often came in handy dealing with their more troublesome residents.

"I won't argue with you," Adam said, "but if you start to see her shedding more magic than she is now, you need to get out of here—both of you."

Kris grabbed his arm. "Where will you be?"

"I can't handle this myself. I need to go to the Embassy."

Kris tightened his grip. "It could be dangerous. They could have sent her here to draw you out."

Adam shook his head. "If people were after me tonight, they'd just have come in when Ron opened the gate. I'll be safe enough. I'm not entirely helpless, you know." He gave the woman on the bed one last look and then strode back out into the hallway.

Kris prepared himself to create the boundary protections that would keep any release of magic within the confines of the bed. Danny took a seat beside the woman and took her hand, not even flinching when another line of magic ran close to where his hand lay on hers.

Containment spells were just the reverse of the boundary spells he cast every week; they forced the energy in rather than out. Casting them should be as easy as breathing—and this one was, up until the last moment when he closed the final inches of the boundary line and felt the radiating power from the bed push _hard_ against the spell. Kris traced a circle in the floor, encouraging the tendrils of magic spreading away from the woman to curl together in a wall that reinforced the protections he'd cast.

"Adam's right," he said. "If she starts letting off more magic I might not be able to contain it."

"Do you know what could be causing this?" Danny asked.

"I haven't even seen anything like this. Someone shoved a lot of power into this woman—it can't do anything but kill her, but if that's what they were trying to do there are easier ways."

Neither of them said it, but the woman wasn't someone who looked like a likely target for sophisticated assassination techniques. The deep purple lines of Dust addiction ran all over her skin and though her clothes were clean they were old and worn.

They heard the pound of urgent footsteps in the hall, but it was only Adam, Megan in tow.

Megan undid the clasp on the cloak that hid her wings. Danny let out a soft gasp but didn't say anything as Megan approached the bed. She sat beside the suffering woman and placed her hands on her temples.

The woman's shivering slowed and she opened her eyes.

"What's your name?" Megan asked, smiling gently.

But the woman shook her head.

"I have come to help you, sister," Megan said. "I need for you to tell me what brought you here."

The woman turned her head away, tears leaking from her eyes. "They said if we drank it, it would make us fey."

"Who's they? What did they give you?" Danny said.

"It was so bright—the water. They said it would make us shine." She reached up to touch Megan's hair. "You all shine so brightly."

"Can you tell us who gave you the water?" Megan asked.

The woman shook her head wildly. "They said they would find us. They killed Eric when he tried to run away."

"Shhh," Megan said, smoothing the damp hair from the woman's forehead. "You are with us now."

Megan looked up at the other three. "I cannot save her. We are beyond that, now."

"Meaning what?" Danny asked, voice hard.

Megan left one hand on the woman's forehead and reached with the other into the bag at her hip. She withdrew a vial full of a dull metallic liquid.

"This is Djoshiruk venom. It neutralizes magic."

"What are you waiting for?" Kris said. "If we can neutralize the magic, can't we save her?"

"It is fatal to humans," Megan said. "It will prevent her from being a further danger to others, but it will not save her."

"No," Danny said. "I cannot allow that."

"I am not asking you," Megan said. "I am asking her."

She turned to the woman on the bed. "This will dull what you are feeling, but I cannot promise you anything more."

"It will stop me from hurting anyone?"

Megan nodded.

"But it won't stop it—the pain, I mean."

Megan paused, but finally shook her head. "But I will stay with you."

"I can help her," Adam said, voice tight.

Megan's head jerked up, eyes huge. "Highness, no. The Lord Baraz would—"

"Baraz is not here," Adam said. "And even if he were, he is not your prince. I can help her and I will."

"It's too much," Megan said. "You can't, I can't allow you."

"You know what they were trying to do."

"That doesn't make it your fault. Ailill, _please_."

Kris looked back and forth between them. "What are they trying to do? What is going on here?"

Adam looked over at him. "I thought it was obvious. They fed her _àillidh uisge_."

Danny and Kris both looked at Megan but she just nodded. "There are other things that could have done this, but that is the most obvious method."

Kris grabbed Adam's arm and pulled him to the other side of the room, Danny following.

"What does that have to do with you?

Adam shook his head. "There is no time for that."

"Make time."

"I will tell you after. That woman can't afford it now."

"What can you do for her that the other one of you can't?" Danny asked.

"That's my special power, isn't it?" Adam raised a hand. "The one everyone's so damn ready to kill for. I can't stop what's happening to her, but I can make sure she can rise above it."

He looked back over to the bed. "Not everyone can take pleasure from pain, but I don't think that will be a problem for her."

"If it's that simple, what is Megan so afraid of?" Kris asked.

"I won't be in any danger," Adam said. The twist to the corner of his mouth as he said it didn't do anything for Kris's growing alarm. "It will take a fair amount of energy. I won't be much use to anyone for a few days."

"And?" There had to be an and.

Adam glared at him but at last gave in. "I will have to go some ways with her to help her get beyond what she is feeling. The magic is always somewhat . . . shared."

Kris remembered what Allison told him about Adam's magic—that you get what you bring to it. It hadn't occurred to him that Adam was also dragged into whatever that turned out to be.

"No," he said. "Megan's right. You can't."

"I am not going to stand here and watch someone else suffer because of me."

"This isn't . . . she's not Inir."

"No," Adam said. "This is worse."

"I think we both know I can stop you." It had always lain there between them—that unspoken tension from the power the binding spell gave Kris.

Adam's eyes narrowed. "And I think we both know that you won't."

He waited a bare second and then went back to the bed. He was right. Kris didn't stop him.

The woman looked up at Adam, desperate hunger in her eyes. Adam sat on the bed beside her and just took her hand in both of his. She closed her eyes and curled towards him, ecstasy chasing the pain on her face.

"You can give it to me now," she said.

Megan took a shining silver needle and attached it to the end of the vial. She paused just a moment but then injected the liquid with what looked like practiced efficiency into the woman's arm.

"Is there anyone we should bring?" Kris asked, having a little trouble with the idea that he'd just stood here watching someone be poisoned.

"No, not anymore," she said. She opened her eyes and clutched at both Adam and Megan. "You'll stay? You said you'd stay."

"Of course," Megan said.

"Tell me something—anything. Something from Faerie."

"I can do better than that," Megan said. "I can show you." She put her hand back on the woman's temple and the woman's eyes fluttered closed again. Kris hoped whatever she was seeing was beautiful at least.

"Come on," Danny said, taking his arm and pulling him into the hall.

"Where are we going?" Kris could not imagine what could be more important than this.

"She's a person, not a zoo animal," Danny said. "At least we can give her some privacy—some kind of dignity at least."

What was happening in there had nothing to do with dignity, but Kris didn't argue.

"We should probably check the perimeter anyway," he said. They both knew there was no real reason to, but it at least let them pretend there was something useful to be done.

"You know the Triad has practically all the _àillidh uisge_ in LA, don't you?" Kris said when they were halfway around the second wall. They hadn't found anything out of the ordinary and Kris was certain the rest of the story would be the same.

"Yeah," Danny said. "And I know just how we paid for that new wing."

They'd bought off Seacrest with the stuff Mike had found, not what Kris had brought back from Mikshva, but that didn't really seem to make a difference now.

They walked the perimeter twice, both times Kris just fixing the little flaws in the boundaries that even Ron or Max could have handled. At last there was nothing to do but go back to the hallway and wait. It wasn't long—an hour, maybe two.

The door opened and Megan came out. Dark shadows bruised the delicate skin beneath her eyes.

"It is done," she said. "I will have to send someone for the body. The venom will still be dangerous."

"Where will you take her?" Kris asked.

"To Faerie," Megan said. "I think she would prefer that."

"Thank you—for your help, I mean," Danny said. "Do you want anything? I can get coffee—or there's water. I'm sorry, that's probably stupid. You probably want to go back to your people."

"It's not stupid." She put her hand on his arm. "And tea would be welcome."

Kris watched as they walked down the hallway to the main body of the house before pushing inside the door. Adam sat in the chair by the bed staring dully forward. He looked as emptied as Megan had been.

The woman didn't look at peace. She looked terrified. Kris lifted the sheet and pulled it up to cover her face.

"Megan said they'd send someone for her," Kris said.

"Her name was Noelle," Adam said. "She wanted us to remember that."

"Okay. Noelle."

Adam stood and let Kris loop one of his arms over Kris's shoulders when he stumbled. Kris led them back to his house. In the grey light just before dawn the yard was almost eerily still.

Adam rallied when they got back to the house but it was only long enough to grab a bottle of whiskey from the bar and take a long pull from it.

"Adam."

" _What?_ "

"Just—give me some of that will you?"

Adam handed over the bottle and Kris took his own swallow.

"I told you I'd tell you," Adam said. "Just—sit on the couch, okay? I'll be out in a minute."

Kris didn't entirely trust Adam's ability to walk three feet unaided but he did as he was told. Adam went into the bedroom and came out bearing one of the vials he'd purchased from Mikshva.

"Don't you think that's caused enough trouble?"

"I don't have the energy to make sure we're not being watched, so this is our only option."

Kris didn't say anything as Adam uncapped the vial—not even when he cut open his own finger and added a generous portion of his own blood to the mix. The liquid's glow shifted from silvery white to golden and Adam poured it in a smooth line around the couch, the both of them inside the circle.

"I should have told you a long time ago," Adam said. "This just isn't something humans outside of Faerie are ever allowed to know. It's the kind of secret I thought you were better off not knowing."

"So tell me now. What could that woman's— _Noelle's_ \--death have to do with you?"

"They did it because they couldn't get me. They were trying to make a substitute."

"Substitute for what? Could you just drop the cryptic shit for once?"

Adam took a deep breath. "My mother as you know is Queen Eilín. My father is a human named Eber Lambert."

"That's . . . that's not _possible_. Everyone knows humans and fey can't have children."

But Adam shook his head. "Human women don't have the magic to carry a fey child to term. We've always let you think that's the end of the story. It's not."

Kris took a few deep breaths—it just couldn't be. Except--he'd always thought Adam didn't look quite Sidhe. He'd always been too human, both in appearance and personality. "We'd have heard about it. You can't keep a secret like that."

"It's rare, even for us," Adam said. "Maybe every other generation—and even then we don't all come into our magic. Most of us don't, really."

"But—the Sidhe hate humans."

"That's never really prevented attraction between humans and Sidhe," Adam said. "And that's especially true at Midsummer when we celebrate all the bright and ephemeral pleasures mortals represent.

"My father went to our greatest city for the Midsummer festival when he was young. It's something of a tradition amongst humans in Western Faerie. He didn't know who my mother was—she just seemed strange and beautiful. He took part in the games to try to win her attention. From what he says he failed at all of them, but she liked that he was brave enough to try it and that he could laugh at himself, after. And so she chose him of all of those present for her companion for the night."

"You're saying you came from that night."

Adam nodded. "My father went back to his town first and met a woman named Leila. They'd just become engaged when my mother showed up with me. Eber and Leila were the ones who raised me, really. They're the ones I think of as my parents."

Kris looked down, trying to absorb this. "Your mother just left you there?"

"She was trying to protect me, I think," Adam said. "I wasn't always a beautiful swan, you know."

The bitterness in his voice was a perfect match for the way he'd been the night Inir died. Kris slid closer and put his hand on Adam's.

"We're born human—or mostly. If we come into our Sidhe heritage it's usually in puberty, but I could barely cast spells humans can call up easily, even then." Adam twisted his hand and let Kris slide their fingers together. "They used it against her, I think. I wasn't even a pretty child—and it just got worse when I was older."

It made sense of some things—the way Adam talked about himself now and again, the way his humor sometimes twisted inward.

"She tried to pretend otherwise," Adam said. "But I think it embarrassed her. It was worse because she was Queen. They expected she'd give them another Liandra."

"Liandra?"

"She's the one Inir talked about—the one who founded our empire. She carried a cutting West from the great Tree of Life that supports the old fey kingdom in Europe. The stories say her mortal blood fed it for three days but that her Sidhe magic let it grow greater than before. When she came down from the Tree a great river of magic sprang from its roots—it's what they used to create Western Faerie. You call it the Current.

"That's what they expect from us—not something awkward and _human_. She still lives up there. Although she's fading quickly these days she was always there for comparison."

Kris rubbed the back of Adam's linked hand with his thumb. "I'm sorry."

Adam tried on a smile that was more brave than real. "It wasn't so terrible. My parents didn't care if I ever became anything more than just their kid, you know? And the Sidhe—they weren't all bad. Riagán always acted like it didn't matter to him either. And my mother—she tried to be kind, I think. She just didn't know what to do with me."

"Something changed."

Adam nodded. "When it seemed clear to all of them that I was never going to be more than human they let me come down to LA. It was . . . like a revelation. No one knew who I was. No one _cared_ who I was. I got a really awful job and grew out of the stupid teenager phase. It felt like I finally had a life."

"I think I can understand that," Kris said. Adam wasn't the only one who'd come to LA in search of anonymity.

"I joined this band. It was probably terrible, but I loved it. Singing was the one thing I was always good at—the one thing they all approved of. I did it as often as I could—in whatever run down venue would have me. I started to feel like I was really connecting with the audience—like I was really transporting them somewhere else. And then it started being that way every night."

"That was your magic?" Kris asked.

"Yeah, I think so," Adam said. "Baraz saw me give a show one night. I didn't even know he was there. But then after he was bowing at me and calling me Highness and I didn't even know what to do. I told him he had to be wrong, but I let him take me back to my mother's city. And then all of a sudden I was Ailill and a prince, like everything before didn't even matter."

Kris couldn't even imagine that. "That must have been confusing."

"I didn't handle it very well," Adam said. "I'm not royalty—not the kind they think of, especially. And it was worse, because my magic turned out to be so rare, even for someone like me. They let me come back down here and live in the Embassy eventually. Baraz said having a rock and roll prince would help us with our image in the human lands."

Considering the media's mad passion for all things Ailill Baraz probably had been right there. But Kris couldn't help but remember Adam's story about finding the Sanctuary—how necessary that stolen bit of privacy had been. "And now you think someone's trying to—what, create another one of you by feeding humans magic?"

"It's the only thing that makes sense," Adam said. "Except it won't work, so they're just killing people. Because of me."

"No, it's not," Kris said, turning on the couch so he could face Adam more directly. Adam just looked at him, his whole face an open bruise.

"It is _not_ because of you," Kris said, anger almost like an out of body experience. "You think it would be better—if they'd finished that spell?"

He thought for a terrible moment that Adam might say it would be.

"No," Adam said at last. "No, of course not, but it doesn't change the fact that people have died for this. It was bad enough when it was just Fearghas and Sean and Ysabeau—even Inir. Noelle didn't even know me."

"I know it's hard," Kris said, curling a hand around the back of Adam's neck. "And it doesn't help that you're exhausted. But you didn't do this."

"I know that—I do," Adam said. "But it doesn't help."

"Yeah, I get that."

Adam let Kris shift them until they were both lying on the couch, Adam lying half on top. He didn't sleep although he quieted after a while and Kris had to be happy with that. It was exactly where Kris had been fantasizing about getting Adam for weeks now, but even the solid weight of Adam's body on top of him couldn't mean anything, not then.

It was apparent Kris was going to have to start trusting someone. He just hoped he wasn't making the wrong choices here.

~*~*~*~*~

Baraz was coolly civil though plainly enraged when they reported Noelle's fate—and more particularly Adam and Megan's involvement in it—later that day.

He sent the pair of them off with the strongest of the Sidhe healers. Kris was dispatched to his office for a long wait. Allison waited for him there, small and looking younger than he'd seen her.

"Is Adam okay?" she asked.

"Physically? I think he'll be okay, yeah." She didn't ask about the rest.

Baraz strode in about a half-hour later—all pretence of civility gone. "The pair of you will tell me what you have been up to. Now."

"We've been investigating," Kris said. "We went there—to The Sithen. The night you went to Lady Abdul's party."

"Does Ailill know of this?"

"No," Allison said. "We lied to him."

"And what did you discover in this 'investigation'?"

They both paused and Baraz leaned forward. "Need I remind you that this is not a game? Ailill's protests to the contrary, he could have killed himself with that piece of foolishness last night."

Allison cast a look at Kris. "We found traces of a Shadow—there, where they grabbed Adam."

"No," Baraz said. "Impossible."

"I know what I sensed," Allison said. "Send one of the other fire spirits. They'll tell you the same thing."

"Do not think I won't," Baraz said, but Kris could tell he believed them.

He sat back in his chair. "This changes things dramatically."

"Do you know who could do that—bring the Shadows out of Faerie?" Kris asked.

"I think that question may be getting ahead of ourselves," Baraz said. "Why assume it was someone who brought the Shadows and not the Shadows themselves? They have long resented how the border keeps them chained."

Allison sat up straight. "But they've never left Faerie before. And they're made of magic—more than any of us."

"And we live nearly directly in the path of the strongest source of magic outside of our own kingdoms," Baraz said.

"You think they can travel along the Current?" Kris asked.

"Not all the way from the border," Baraz said. "And not during the day—but if they found some way to gate into the one of the stronger tides of magic, I believe they could live outside of Faerie for some limited time, yes."

Kris had seen maps of the magic currents in LA. "But the Current doesn't run through LA—and none of the tributaries even come close to the theater district."

"You are assuming that the course of those tributaries can never be altered," Baraz said. "Controlling the wilder magic is a rare talent among us—I would have said there is only one who has that skill and I still would say this kind of treachery is beyond her."

"Then who?" Kris said.

"That I cannot tell you," Baraz said. "And what is more, I cannot begin to guess."

~*~*~*~*~

It was maybe not the best time to talk to Adam after all.

He sat at the giant makeup counter in his dressing room, functionaries fluttering around him by the dozen. That wasn't really the problem. The problem was he looked like he'd just come from the bath and was wearing nothing more than some kind of wraparound terrycloth skirt. His lack of apparel didn't seem to be bothering either him or the other fey but Kris wasn't really used to talking to people wearing what amounted to a large towel.

The tawny little Sidhe who'd accompanied him to the party the past week stood beside him, one hip leaning against the table. The boy ran his fingertips up Adam's arm and then bent low to speak something in Adam's ear, lips brushing briefly against Adam's neck. Adam's answering look was flirtatious enough, but it was reflexive, almost cynical.

Kris almost turned to leave but then Adam caught sight of him in the mirror and waved him over. Adam spoke a few low words to the crowd around him and about half of them filed out. The Sidhe boy gave Kris a knowing look and a quick wink and then followed after.

"Hey," Kris said, uncertain. Things between them had been tense and uneasy ever since Adam had learned about Kris and Allison's activities. It hadn't helped that Adam had been in a terrible mood with everyone, snapping from brittle imperiousness to temporary apology by the minute.

It had been bad enough when Kris had just thought Adam was mad at him. Figuring out that it was mostly himself Adam was angry with had been a lot worse.

"Hey," Adam said, expression contrite enough that Kris felt it safe to take up the boy's place in leaning against the counter.

"Are you heading back home now?" Adam asked. "I can send for someone to take you."

"No—I just wanted to see what you were doing."

Adam grimaced. "Just getting myself pretty for this ball. You're lucky you get to escape."

"I don't know," Kris said, picking up a bottle of bright nail polish and twisting it around in his hand before putting it back on the counter. "It might be interesting."

"It won't be, I promise," Adam said. "It's a formal delegation from the European court. It'll be me sitting around while people I don't know bow at me."

Kris just shrugged a shoulder. "I've never seen one."

Few humans had. This wasn't one of the nights the fey would be opening their doors to the human media.

"Hey, if you want to come you're welcome to—you know that," Adam said. "It's pretty formal, though. And by that I don't mean a suit and tie."

"I think I can handle a makeover," Kris said. He looked over Adam's makeup, a curious heat in his stomach as he thought about just turning himself over to Adam for the night, letting Adam transform him into whatever he wanted.

Adam looked over his shoulder and gestured at two of the servants. "Casia and Mikhail here will take care of you."

"Wait—I thought you." But no, of course, that was stupid. "Never mind—I'm sure they'll be great."

"Oh," Adam said, eyes warming with understanding.

"No—you're busy. You have a whole palace waiting for you."

"I'm going to tell you a little secret." Adam wrapped a hand around Kris's wrist, his thumb rubbing comforting circles into Kris's skin. "I'm the belle of this ball. They'll wait as long as I tell them to."

He turned back to the servants. "Bring me some options for him."

He looked up at Kris. "I'm going to have to give you a sign of my blessing. There will be strange fey here who might not immediately recognize you."

Kris nodded, not entirely able to speak as Adam turned on his stool and pulled Kris to stand between his splayed knees.

"Don't worry," Adam said, amused glint in his eyes. "I'll be gentle."

Adam slid his hands up Kris's neck and then settled them on opposite sides of his face. Kris closed his eyes and let Adam pull him forward.

He felt the warm soft brush of Adam's lips across his forehead and then the glide of slow, honeyed warmth down over his body. He'd felt Adam's magic before, but this felt subtly different, more intimate. He had to clutch at Adam's biceps for balance, smooth clean skin under his hands and filling his head with every breath.

He opened his eyes to find Adam's on him, still filled with that patient understanding. Adam rubbed a thumb across Kris's lower lip, his hands steady and sure on Kris's face.

"Okay?" Adam asked.

Kris blinked and tried to yank his brain back into a place that was capable of words. "Yeah, you could say that."

Adam took his arm and settled him back on the stool someone had placed there, looking a little reluctant when he at last dropped his hands.

A servant appeared at Adam's shoulder. "Highness, shall I begin?"

She lifted a vial full of inky black liquid that gave off shimmers of blue and green and purple depending on where the light hit it. Adam took a deep breath and nodded.

Adam turned perpendicular to the table, allowing her to stand behind him. She set the liquid on the table and lifted a silver stylus. She dipped it into the liquid and then began to draw something on Adam's shoulder blade.

Kris gave him a questioning look.

"Later," Adam said. "I don't want to spoil the effect."

A group of servants lined up with what were presumably things for Kris.

The first of them held up something shiny and vaguely futuristic, crystals covering the silver fabric in shimmering patterns.

"Are you trying to amuse me?" Adam said. The servant bowed his apology and swept away.

The feathery second option got a sigh and a quick dismissal as did options three through six. The one that included what looked like buckskin chaps got an amused quirk of Adam's lips and a quick considering look thrown at Kris, but Adam at last shook his head.

"The idea is for him to enjoy himself, not to force him to go looking for the closest curtains to hide behind," Adam said. "Bring me something he'll be comfortable in."

They bowed and swept off, tittering at each other in some high pitched feathery language Kris didn't recognize.

"I don't know," Kris said. "The one with the bondage straps was pretty hot."

"Well then," Adam said, "we'll just have to keep that one in mind for the future."

The second wardrobe they brought in looked significantly less ornate, full of plain but rich fabrics. Adam pursed his lips and pointed at the second outfit.

"Let's try that," he said.

The servant bowed and pressed the clothes into Kris's hands.

"Um," Kris said, looking around at the giant crowd floating in and out of the room. Adam might be perfectly happy sitting around mostly naked, but Kris was not so sanguine.

Adam gave him an amused indulgent look but then signaled at one of his flunkies.

Kris slipped behind the screen they set up. It blocked him well enough from the rest of the room, but he was still hyper-conscious of Adam sitting just a few feet away as he stripped off his clothes.

The woven blue shirt and pants were comfortable, but Adam shook his head.

"Totally the wrong color," he said, sending Kris back with another bundle.

"You're having fun with this, aren't you?" Kris said by the time Adam had said no to three more in succession.

"A little," Adam said. The woman behind him finished up with one side and then moved to his opposite shoulder. He flinched just slightly but then settled under her hand.

A servant leaned into Adam's ear, yet another carefully folded pile of clothes in hand. Adam looked it over and then Kris.

"With the right accessories, maybe," he said. Kris dutifully headed back to his changing station. He'd really thought taking this many clothes off for Adam would have been a lot more fun.

This outfit was the simplest yet; just brown suede pants, a long sleeveless dark red shirt with a high open collar, and a matching belt and low boots. Kris vaguely felt like an extra from an Errol Flynn movie putting it on, but the fabric slid cool and comfortable over his skin, even the pants softer than the plushest cotton.

To his profound relief Adam just nodded. Kris returned to the safety of his stool as Adam sifted through the trunks of jewelry offered to him one after another.

He plucked a solid torque of old gold and a pair of matching armbands from one of the jewelry boxes. Kris probably could have managed them himself, but he let Adam slide the bands onto his upper arms and settle the heavy weight of the torque around his neck and onto his collarbone. The thing had probably cost more than Kris had made in his whole life altogether.

He sat there, slightly bemused, as Adam picked up containers of eye shadow and powder and lined them up on the counter. Adam opened each small pot in turn, smoothing creams over Kris's face and then following up with broad strokes of powder across his cheeks and above his eyes. He drew careful lines around Kris's eyes, hand sure and practiced. Kris wasn't sure about the final tube of lip gloss, but Adam shushed him with a wave. The small strokes of the lip brush felt oddly sensual against his skin and Kris just gave himself over to it. One of the servants rubbed something through his hair pulling it into rougher spikes as Adam finished up.

"Okay," Adam said.

Kris stood up and turned slowly to the mirror. He felt like himself but at a slight angle. The red suited him, he thought, and the rich weight of the torque made him look like some kind of barbarian princeling. Adam hadn't added as much make-up as he'd feared—or if he did Kris couldn't see it. It just sharpened his features, brought out his cheekbones and the line of his jaw. His eyes were liquid dark and very large in his face, and the gloss on his lips felt strange and oddly vulnerable.

He looked—not like Adam really, but at least like someone who belonged here.

"I think I like it," he said.

"Good," Adam said, obviously pleased.

"Highness," the woman behind Adam said, "if you are quite ready I believe we can proceed."

"Yes," Adam said with a slight grimace. He flicked his gaze at Kris. "You might want to stand back for this. Well back."

He turned to face the mirror again as everyone else scurried away. There were two complicated, twisting symbols drawn on his back, one over each shoulder blade. Kris wasn't tremendously excited to see things etched into Adam's skin but no one else looked upset.

The woman took up another vial, this one full of a softly glowing lilac oil. She smeared it liberally over each symbol on Adam's back before stepping away herself. Adam made a small suppressed sound and dug his fingers tightly into the wood of the table as great wings burst from the symbols on his back and fluttered once before settling.

They were the same deep black the liquid had been and glimmered with that same purple and green and blue iridescence. Kris stepped forward, amazed, but then he saw the blood on Adam's skin.

"Jesus, Adam," he said, grabbing the damp cloth from the hovering woman with a scowl. "Was that really necessary?"

Adam took a few more deep breaths and opened his eyes, meeting Kris's in the mirror. "The best magic always has its price. You know that."

"You're _bleeding_ ," Kris said. He took a swipe at the blood on Adam's back with the towel. The skin beneath seemed whole and smooth, but Adam made a small hitched sound and Kris snatched his hand away, appalled.

"God, I'm hurting you."

"No," Adam said, face oddly flushed, "that wasn't pain."

Kris looked back at the blood on Adam's back, uncertain.

"The wings are sensitive when new—as is the skin where they join," Adam said.

"Oh," Kris said. Oh, God.

"It would be best to clean it before it dries," Adam said, a challenge and a question both.

Feeling bold, Kris wiped the towel in a firm swipe down Adam's back. Adam kept his eyes on Kris's in the mirror, not hiding the shivering pleasure that stole over his face with every press of Kris's hand. Kris cleaned the rest of Adam's back slowly, intent on each small gasp Adam made. At last the blood was cleaned away—more than really—and Kris had to drop his hand. He wondered what would happen if he followed the same path with his tongue.

A servant cleared his throat loudly and Adam jumped, spell broken. Kris wondered viciously if there weren't some candlesticks off somewhere the servant couldn't be polishing.

"Right," Adam said. He took a few deep breaths, visibly forcing himself back under control.

"I think I may have to join you later," he said, rueful. "My beauty routine takes a little longer than yours."

Kris wanted to tell him he could go out there as is and still be the prettiest one there, but it didn't feel like the thing to say in front of twenty strangers.

"I'll have to let Allison take care of you during dinner," Adam said. "I have to be charming for our guests."

"It's fine," Kris said. "I'll talk to you later?"

"Yes," Adam said. "Definitely."

Allison gave him a mock leer and then a quick affectionate hug when she saw him. She looked different herself, her hair brighter and flickering with all of the colors of fire.

"These are our nights for showing off," she said, leading him to the giant ballroom.

The fey had already gathered at the great tables. They showed a different face than the one they usually presented to the media—almost as if some veil had been lifted and he was seeing their real selves. They looked wild and strange, features sharper and less human. More than one person wore wings like Adam, though none were quite so grand as his. There were others sporting shimmering dragonfly wings and still more with twisting horns like a goat or the great spreading antlers of the stag. At least one person wore the hard twitching carapace of a flying cockroach on his back and another a long pink tail like a rat.

The clothing was just as strange—angular and exaggerated beyond human fashion: the most extreme of haute couture taken to higher wilder levels. There were dresses of spiderwebs and clouds and tunics of forest moss and leaves. A lady walked by in a gown of what looked like floating starlight, her companion in a dress that made a sound like the sea as it brushed the floor.

There was an odd arresting beauty to it all. It left him as unsettled as the weirdest parts of the Canyon but compelled his interest even so. He felt his attention darting everywhere and it was almost a shock a good while later when the trumpets announced Adam's entrance.

Adam walked down the center of the room alone although Baraz of course followed a respectful three feet behind. He wore what for him was a very simple tunic of blue silk edged in silver embroidery and matching loose pants over embroidered slippers. The tunic tied around his neck leaving his arms and shoulders bare. They'd somehow grown his hair longer and tied it in some complicated topknot. His make-up was simpler, too—just heavy vaguely Egyptian kohl around his eyes and something that made his lips glisten.

It was the wings that were the real part of the outfit, of course. They arched up high over his shoulders and trailed nearly to the ground. They'd been set on the upward sweep with heavy bands of blackened silver and somehow they'd attached dark jewels in blackened metal settings on the inner arch. When he passed Kris and mounted the steps toward the throne Kris noticed the ties from the shirt fell down the center of his back leaving most of the rest uncovered. The pale skin of his back where the wings attached stood out in stark bold counterpoint to the darkness of his shirt and wings. Knowing what he did about how sensitive that skin was seeing it like that felt almost more erotic than if Adam had come out naked.

Almost.

Adam settled on the great throne—a trifle carefully it seemed to Kris—and Baraz took up his usual position at his right side.

The guests from Europe filed in one after another and, as promised, bowed at Adam after the presentation of some small gift or another. Watching them parade in, each stranger than the last, was interesting enough for Kris despite Adam's warnings. Adam himself put on a nearly inhuman job of acting warm and interested in each guest even though Kris thought he was probably bored out of his skull.

A tall broad-shouldered brunet swept in last and was announced as a Lord Stephane. The shimmering red and gold scales that swept over his eyes and then in intricate lines over his arms like the world's loveliest tattoo said that he was one of the higher orders of dragons—the kind that could wear human shape when they chose.

Adam looked sincerely charmed for the first time that night and wondered aloud if the effect could be replicated.

"It would suit you, Highness," Stephane said in a completely stupid French accent. "Though I think blue and silver would better complement your beauty." He bowed, ridiculous floppy hair falling over his chiseled face.

Kris looked up at Adam, certain he could not be falling for such an obvious cliché, but Adam just looked entirely delighted with him. Stephane was given the last seat on the dais just to Adam's left and dinner was announced.

"Stop looking so constipated." Allison elbowed him sharply. "Stephane is the son of the most powerful duke in Europe. Adam has to play nice with him."

Kris didn't think playing nice required so very much smiling in the strictest sense, but he calmed down when Adam spent at least as much time talking to Baraz and the older Sidhe lady on his right as dinner commenced.

After dinner the tables shimmered and disappeared, leaving the ballroom free. Allison took pity on him and escorted him to the raised tables that lined the sides of the room where the human companions of the fey sat. There were more of them then Kris would have expected and the looks they shared with their fey partners seemed to hold genuine affection.

The rest of the fey lined up for the dance, striking out in even more elaborate intricate rhythms than Kris had seen the day Adam had danced with the Sanctuary. Allison bounded off with a bashful Sidhe after a quick look of apology at Kris. He saw her once later with Adam and then briefly with Baraz, her bright hair standing out even in that crowd.

Adam had a line of partners crowding up after each dance. He joined in a few of the more sedate numbers, his wings proving too complicated otherwise. Kris knew Adam usually enjoyed dancing but he had a look of fixed politeness on his face as he escorted one member of the European delegation to the floor after another.

Stephane swooped in inevitably, leading Adam out for a waltz. The rest of Adam's partners had at least been polite enough to keep their hands on Adam's lower back where it was covered by the silk of his tunic, but Stephane's hands started straying immediately. His fingertips at first just brushed the edges of his shirt in what might have been an accident but by the third trip around the ballroom his fingers were entirely laying on Adam's bare skin.

Adam looked flushed but not exactly unwilling and Kris sat there feeling frustrated and useless. It wasn't like there was anything he could do if Adam really wanted people to paw at him.

"He is impertinent," Baraz said, coming up across the table from Kris.

Unlike the rest of the crowd, Baraz had kept to elegant simplicity. He wore a long plum robe that gathered on one shoulder and fell in perfect even pleats to the floor. Thousands of diamond chips had been woven into his braids, shining like stars against the unrelenting black of his hair. He looked as fresh as if he'd just stepped out of his dressing room although Kris knew he had joined the dancing.

"It must take a lot of effort to be you," he said, not really in the mood to be polite.

Baraz's startlement only registered in a quick lift of his eyebrows and a slight tip of the wineglass he carried but it was totally worth it.

"A modest amount," Baraz said, composure regained. He indicated Allison's abandoned chair with a sweep of his hand. "May I?"

"Why not," Kris said. Baraz at least was never boring and it seemed like he might also dislike Stephane. Which, for the moment, made him possibly Kris's favorite person in the room.

"Why aren't you out there, you know, doing your hovering thing?" he asked. He would have thought Baraz physically incapable of straying more than ten feet from Adam at one of these events.

Baraz's lips thinned but then he relented. "His Highness indicated that if I could not find it within myself to treat all of our guests with proper hospitality I might find myself more comfortable in other company."

Kris blinked at him. "Are you telling me that Adam actually gave you a time out?"

"I am not familiar with this 'time out'," Baraz said. "But if I catch your meaning, then yes."  
Wow. This evening might be salvaged just yet.

"So," he said, "what's your problem with Stephane? And feel free to elaborate."

"He oversteps himself," Baraz said, gesturing at the dance floor. The waltz had ended and Stephane was leading Adam over to the refreshment table where they were serving flavored cups of the winter's first snow. "He imagines himself a proper suitor for Ailill. He has been sending grander and grander presents to Eilín for years now, seeking to curry her favor to that end."

Stephan's hand was planted somewhere more polite now that the dance was over, but his thumb still caressed the edges of Adam's shirt. Another member of the European court came up, hopeful look on his face, but Stephane sent him packing with a quick scowl.

"And does Adam's opinion matter at all in any of this?"

"Eilín would never send a child of hers to live with such a graceless buffoon, no matter his political worth," Baraz said. "But Ailill knows that his ultimate disposition is in the hands of our Queen. It is not a matter of desire."

"He's not just some prize," Kris said. "He's . . . well, you people don't even know, do you? You wouldn't even look at him until he turned into some kind of super-special magic dispenser. Of course you don't think he'd have any thoughts on his own future worth even listening to."

Baraz took a sip of his wine, not bothering to turn from watching the resumed dancing.

"I loved a woman once," he said after a weighted pause.

Kris took a sharp indrawn breath, but if Baraz heard him he gave no sign.

"The more common tales say she was exquisitely beautiful. She was not. But she had her mother's wisdom and her father's spirit, and they were no small things to own."

"You don't have to tell me this," Kris said. He didn't think he'd earned the intimacy of this confession, no matter what his relationship to Adam—or Baraz's, for that matter.

"It is my story to tell. I think in any event the details of her birth may seem not altogether unfamiliar to you." Baraz turned and looked at him at last, his eyes filled with that bittersweet mixture of gladness and loss that Kris had come to expect from tales of the Sidhe.

"When her father was a young man, he and his friends went to the prince's great city to watch the Sidhe dance at the Midsummer fires. And there he saw a young fairy woman, a being of shining loveliness far beyond anything he'd ever thought to experience. His friends hung back, afraid, but Keiros had a brave and merry heart and would not be so easily daunted. He offered her the only gift he thought she might value—a song. The Lady Indira, enchanted by his music and his grace in offering it, chose him as her own for the night and then for all nights after so long as he dwelled in the world."

It was familiar and that was what Kris had been afraid of. "They had a child," he said, almost unwillingly.

"More than that," Baraz said. "A Midsummer's child. All children of summer's highest blossoming are special to us, but she, who sparkled with mortal vitality and Sidhe magic both, was a treasure beyond reckoning. Jaina was born of music and laughter and carried them with her in all of her days. She moved through the world with such joy and grace the world seemed a lighter place, just because of her presence in it.

"There were no seven kings, no great quest for the fair princess's hand. She had her suitors, however—a shy sculptor's son, a bold and celebrated poetess, and, least worthy, an arrogant Sidhe prince. She chose the prince for reasons I still do not comprehend. She did not want the gifts I showered upon her, the dresses of spun sunlight or the necklaces of dragon's tears. In the end I told her I had nothing else to give her besides myself and that seemed a pale offering for one such as her. She said it was that that finally won her and perhaps it was so, because love was what she treasured most in this world."

Baraz looked down and traced the lip of his wineglass with one finger although he did not lift it to his lips. "The tales always give her a tragic death, one of fire or childbirth or the sword, but it was not so. If it was tragedy it was only the common shadow all born to mortals live under. Towards the end of our third century she began to tire and thus to age. I had feared it long and long, but it was no terrible thing after all. It only taught me new ways to love her and to value the years we had left. In the end, she saw a great road stretching before her and I had to let her go to walk upon it even if I could not follow. And then I went out into the world trying to live as she would have done instead of hiding in my city and letting the centuries roll over me."

And then the humans had come and did what they did, Kris thought.

"I have wandered the world for a very long time now," Baraz said. "In all of that time I have met only four like her—children of Midsummer who bore the twinned blood in their veins. There were others of course, but it has been four centuries since I even heard whispers of one.

"So, please, do not tell me I do not know how to value him. It would be a kind of human arrogance I have not often found in you."

Kris looked down, gut twisting. "He's not her."

"No, he is not." Baraz sighed and for the first time Kris got a fleeting sense of the pressing weight of centuries upon him. "And you are right that they do not recognize him. They could not and hope to make of him another Liandra."

Kris looked over at Adam, a little sad that even now Adam was still being compared and found wanting. "So she is stronger than he is."

"Strength has nothing to do with it," Baraz said. "Liandra is a gift of the harvest. She is the death that carries the seeds for new life. He is a summer prince. You can rule an empire with such as he is, but you would be a fool to try and found one with his power."

"And why don't they know all that?" Kris gestured at the gathered crowd, more than a little suspicious. "It doesn't sound like the kind of thing you'd just forget."

"We were a different people once—a wilder people," Baraz said. "I fear that it has been so long since many of them have allowed themselves to feel the summer that they cannot recognize it when it returns. The younger of them may not even believe in such divisions in power. Like many of you humans, they consider the older tales to be no more than superstitious drivel."

"So . .. what they're trying to do, it won't even work? All of this is for nothing?"

Baraz nodded slowly. "If Inir was correct in stating they are trying to found their own empire, then no, it won't work. And the fact that they have as much power as they have displayed and yet have so little understanding of what they are trying to control concerns me."

Kris tried to run a hand through his hair, forgetting for a moment all the gunk holding it in place. "You're a very cheerful person to talk to."

"I believe I have heard that before, yes," Baraz said.

"I should perhaps return to the dancing," Baraz said, rising to his feet. He glanced over at where Adam still stood next to Stephane and then back at Kris. "A piece of advice, before I go. He does not like to be defined. I would be careful in assuming you know how he feels about his role here."

Baraz gave him a brief but respectable bow and then descended onto the ballroom floor, leaving Kris entirely alone. The other humans at the tables appeared to know each other—or at least their fey partners stayed with them most of the time. Kris caught sight of Allison romping about in the middle of the floor and assumed she probably wouldn't be back.

Stephane leaned in to say something in Adam's ear. Adam gave him a slanted glance, the corner of his mouth curling up. He didn't exactly look like someone who wanted rescuing. Stephane gestured at the large doors leading out into the garden. Adam went with him, Stephane's hand easy on the small of his back.

Kris got up and fled into the quieter dark of the hallway. He passed a laughing fey couple oblivious to the world in an alcove. They'd been pairing up all night, disappearing down hallways or up the grand ballroom stairs—or heading out into the garden. The fey in the Division had never been ones to hide their sexual adventures, and it seemed the Sidhe were no different.

He found a quiet terrace and leaned back against the smooth wall of the palace, breathing in the cooler night air.

 _You were the one who wanted to come. You just had to see._

He closed his eyes and took another breath.

"Well, well, if it isn't our prince's tempting little mortal all on his own."

Kris jerked upright. A Sidhe lady stood in the center of the terrace, her golden hair bleached into something softer in the moonlight. She stepped toward him, the pale rose petals of her gown fluttering with her every movement and revealing tempting slices of flesh beneath.

"I think I should go back to the ballroom."

"There's no hurry, surely," she said, standing very near indeed. "There's no reason to be afraid. We aren't allowed to hurt you."

"I really think I should leave."

"Why?" she asked, looking distressed. "Do you find me too ugly?"

Oh, God. He didn't even know the Sidhe could have their feelings hurt.

"What? No, of course, you're . . . you're beautiful. You have to know that."

Her pouting expression melted back into her former voluptuous pleasure. "Good, there is no problem, then."

She leaned in and licked his neck above the torque. "You taste just like him."

"Wait," he said as she pressed closer. She smelled of roses and sunlight on leaves and everything that was good in the world. He turned his face into her hair, needing more.

"If you have other preferences, I am amenable," she said. Her form shimmered and the pretty Sidhe boy from earlier stood before him.

She pressed her lips to the skin just below his ear. "Does it please you—to put your hands on what he has touched?"

He realized he was gripping her closer, one hand on her back and the other on her hip. Letting go seemed a mental effort well beyond him.

"Or do you prefer a more direct fantasy?" Her features slid into Adam's—the casual, mussy-haired Adam who sat on his couch every morning. She bent to kiss him. There was a moment when he could have stopped her, but he just let it happen. Let her slide her hands around his back and jerk him into her, let her brush Adam's full perfect lips against his. She moved her thigh between his legs and rubbed hard against his erection. He made a small helpless sound and fisted his hands in her hair, yanking her down for a second kiss.

She trailed her hand down his back and then lower. "I could have you right here. And I think you would beg me for it."

He shoved hard against her shoulders and pulled his face away. "No. _Stop_."

He was expecting a fight but she just dropped her hands and took a step back.

"There is no reason to feel guilty," she said, still wearing Adam's body. "He is a popular choice. I'd thought to offer him to Stephane, but I think our conquering dragon is having no trouble with the original."

Kris's face twisted and he turned away.

"Oh, don't worry," she said, her silvery laugh almost friendly. "Ailill has always been generous. I'm sure there will be enough left for you after Stephane is done with him. Are you sure you don't want a little fun while you wait your turn?"

"I'm sure." He retreated a further step along the wall.

"There's no need for that," she said, shifting back into her original form. "Once you say no we have to stop. Those are the rules."

She held a hand out to him, but he brushed past her out into the hallway and up to the hopeful safety of Adam's suite. The room was dark and cool, empty even of the usual servants.

He tore the armbands off his wrists and then the torque. He tossed them onto the bathroom counter, heedless of the effect of the hard surface on the soft gold. Everything else got kicked into a ball into the corner. He didn't care if the humidity of the shower was bad for the suede. He wasn't going to be wearing it again.

He opened the door of the shower and slid under the spray, not caring that it was too cold. His skin felt hot, oversensitized. He gripped himself roughly, not wanting pleasure so much as just to be done. With Adam's damn flirtation and Stephane and this whole place.

He jerked himself hard, but it wasn't enough, not after tonight. He held two fingers of his opposite hand under the spray and then shoved them inside himself, uncaring of the sharp burn. He rocked back on his hand, thinking about Adam's body pressing him up against the wall, the dark promise in the way she'd slid Adam's hand down his body—and how very much he'd wanted what she was offering.

He twisted his fingers, trying to find the spot that would let him end this quickly. He didn't often do this to himself. It had usually been Katy. Katy laughing at herself in bed as she'd pored over sex tips from one of her magazines. Katy's shy pleasure turning bolder as she'd slipped that first finger inside of him. He'd been more turned on by her excitement than what she'd been doing until a shift of her hand had brushed something deep inside of him. It had felt like their secret game—like sex was their own discovery, because surely no one else could have felt this good, ever. They'd tried it later with her vibrator, her hair cool and silky on his thighs while her warm pink tongue teased him wild with desire.

But Katy wasn't here. It wasn't even Adam's fingers inside of him, just himself, alone. His orgasm when it came felt more painful than good and left him empty and shuddering. He scrubbed the washcloth over his body, scraping away make up and sweat and everything.

He stumbled out of the shower finally. The face that met him in the mirror was his own, just maybe a little frayed at the edges.

He found his clothing stacked neatly and pulled them on slowly. He sat on the divan in Adam's room and stared out into the night, forcing himself to feel the dull ache inside of him as he moved.

He heard a sound in the outer room and tensed. Adam strode through the doorway, stumbling to a halt when he saw Kris sitting there.

At least he was alone.

"Kris!" Adam said. "There you are. Allison said you'd left the party in kind of a hurry."

"It wasn't my kind of scene after all." Kris really didn't want to be having this conversation right now.

Adam waved a hand and the lights came up. There was a crescent shaped bruise on his neck and another on his collarbone. Long strands of his hair had come out of their bindings and his wings looked ruffled as if someone had been running their fingers through the feathers.

"I cannot fucking believe you," Kris said, sick disappointment twisting into anger. Which was fine. At least he could do something with anger.

"What?" Adam looked like he really didn't know what Kris was talking about, which just made it even worse. "I don't—did someone do something to you?"

"You actually slept with him, didn't you?"

Adam jerked upright, concern banished behind icy correctness. "I don't think that's any of your business."

"You don't even care, do you—how they look at you." He just couldn't understand it, how Adam could just go with them when Kris had been waiting here. "They treat you like you're some kind of buffet and you just let them."

"You know," Adam said, diction gone painfully precise, "that's the second time you've called me a whore."

"Wait, no, that's not what I—"

"I'm sorry if you're so disgusted," Adam said, hands twisting into fists. "No, fuck that, I'm not sorry."

He gestured at himself—at the marks on his throat and the wings, everything. "This is who I am. They are who I am. I won't apologize for that. But don't worry, you won't have to watch anymore if it sickens you so much. You can have your life back."

He turned and stalked out of the room.

Kris bolted up off the divan and after. "Adam, don't."

Adam paused at the doorway to the hallway and looked back over his shoulder. He looked like he might speak, but then just shook his head and disappeared.

~*~*~*~*~

"Why don't you just go ahead and put that on what you actually want to watch?"

The remote in Kris's hand was suddenly intensely interesting. "Am I really that obvious?"

"Don't kid yourself, honey," Lil said. "You're way beyond obvious."

Lil sounded a little exasperated but not actually annoyed and Kris risked looking at her. She'd come over for dinner after her husband had taken the kids to see his mother. It was something they used to do more often—before Adam that was. When she'd asked about his plans for the night he'd been happy to have the chance to reconnect a little—and, yeah, to have someone to distract him from the emptiness of his living room.

"I had a fight. With Adam."

She was kind enough to pretend she hadn't already figured that out. "Bad?"

He twisted the remote in his hands and leaned forward over his splayed knees. "Yeah, bad. And maybe I'm still mad at him, but the binding spell—it will start affecting him soon if he keeps away from here. It's been days now and it worries me."

He heard Lil exhale slowly. "He's okay—or at least he was as of this morning."

Kris stared at her. "You saw him? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I found him sleeping on Danny's couch. He told me he didn't want anyone to know."

"I can't believe you didn't tell me," Kris said, caught between dizzy relief that Adam actually wasn't being as stupid as he thought and the realization that yes, it was possible to be more incensed with him after all. "He shouldn't be playing around with this."

And there was the annoyance. "He's an adult. He should be allowed to make his own choices."

"Even if they're stupid choices?"

"That spell between you two—Danny and I, we've never liked it. It isn't fair." She leaned forward and pressed his knee. "To _either_ of you. It isn't right—him being dragged back here. At least I could give him room to make some decisions. Even if they are terrible ones."

"I'm sorry I snapped at you," Kris said after a minute. "I just wish he'd talk to me."

Lil lifted the remote out of his hands and flipped the channel to Magic Television.

"We don't have to," he said, although he really didn't mean it.

"Who says we're watching it for you?" Lil said. "It's worth tuning in just to see what he's wearing."

They were showing the red carpet prior to the awards show that would be on later that night. So far it was just the usual collection of actors and musicians. About half of them had brought their faerie servant— _trulls_ , Kris, that's what you called them. A few of the fey stood in seeming ease under the affectionate hand of their human companion, but others flinched at the end of their leash the second they caught the cameras on them. All of them were decked out as usual in long diaphanous robes that flowed from neck to ankles but did little to conceal. Even cable television wouldn't think of showing humans dressed that way so early in the evening, but fey bodies had always been a different story.

The heavy jewelry did a better job of hiding the bruises and other marks that lay on wrists and throats and more intimate spaces, but you could still see them if you were looking.

Kris curled his legs in and leaned back against the couch, no longer certain he was happy about seeing this.

"They're pretty hard to watch sometimes," Lil said. Kris turned towards her and she made an uncomfortable gesture with her shoulder. "They show up at some of the fundraisers. I don't even try to get donations from their keepers most of the time. There are just some things I won't do for money."

Kris put his hand on top of hers. "I think we're better off without that kind of support."

The crowd rippled and turned, their attention caught by something off screen.

The Sidhe had finally arrived.

They walked up the red carpet in pairs. One of each couple wore a tight leather corset and pants in various deep colors and in one hand carried a short whip or paddle or riding crop. Their companion dressed in narrow interweaving strips of matching leather that did more to display their strong sleek bodies than hide them. Each bore marks from the toy their "master" carried—whip lashes and bruises and reddened flesh artistically arranged like the world's most exotic accessories.

Kris recognized some of them—both those that carried the toys and those that showed their use. They were powerful lords and ladies both—these weren't servants. Nor did they act like servants. Even the ones who were practically naked on national television only seemed to preen in the camera lights, their expressions turning pleased and proud under the shocked gaze of the now-silent humans.

Adam appeared last. He was the only one in black and his tight jacket covered him from his jaw line to wrists. With his hair swept straight up, he towered over Sidhe and humans alike. In his hand he bore a shining silver baton that trailed three tails in that same silver. Three others walked around him: two males and the golden haired lady from the night of the ball.

He looked—well, just seeing him was a relief—but his expression was closed off, more arrogant and distant than Kris had ever seen him.

The human media's love affair with Ailill came in part because of his combination of warmth and bald honesty. Kris didn't think they'd be getting either tonight. A few of them tentatively stepped forward, microphones raised, but then fell back when they got a closer look at his face.

"Lady Niamh," one of them called out. "Why are you here—like this?"

The golden Sidhe at Adam's side paused and turned to them, smiling in the sudden flash of the cameras.

"For our pleasure," she said, cheeks flushed with high excitement. She trailed her hand over the three parallel lashes on her thigh and up over her torso to her throat, the reporter's eyes following her every move. "And for the pleasure of our prince, of course."

Adam had paused to wait for her a few feet ahead. One of the humans' delicate androgynous pets leaned forward against his leash to press his forehead against Adam's calf. Adam glanced down and he jerked away, shaking. His owner yanked him back even further almost choking him. The man bowed over and over, obsequious apologies falling off his lips.

Adam just looked down at him not speaking until at last he turned to Niamh and gave her a short nod. She held her hand out to the bowing man. He froze, expression pained, but then placed his fey's leash in Niamh's outstretched hand. Niamh gave him a bright smile and a word of thanks and then walked off after Adam, the trembling fey tucked protectively under one arm. They disappeared off the screen, replaced by the usual line of human celebrities.

"They do know how to make an entrance," Lil said.

"It doesn't bother you—seeing them like that?"

"You grow up in LA, you see a whole lot more than that." She turned to him. "I think the more important question is did it bother you?"

"I don't know." He'd known the Sidhe played a lot of sexual games and found no reason for shame in any form of pleasure. That wasn't the problem, really. The look on Adam's face, though—he didn't seem very much like the Adam Kris knew. Or maybe he was and Kris had just been seeing what he wanted to all along.

"I'm not judging you," Lil said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I had my doubts at first, but you've been a lot happier since he's been here. It's been good to see."

"I don't know if that matters anymore," Kris said. "Not if he keeps hiding. I can't exactly storm the palace and insist they let me talk to him."

"Look," Lil said, "when Jesse and I were getting together, we went through a couple of real rough patches. There was a time when we didn't talk for two weeks and I was sure we were through. But we worked through it and we got to a better place. Maybe you can too, maybe not. You won't know if you don't try."

She stood up and gathered up her purse. "I think you need to figure out if this is what you really want and that might be easier to do alone."

"I'm sorry," Kris said. "I'm being a bad friend."

"Never that, honey. You're just a little confused is all."

She shook her head and leaned down to kiss his cheek. He gave her a grateful if watery smile and then walked her to the door.

The scene on the television had switched to the first of the nominations. Kris didn't particularly care about any of the actual awards, but the network kept the camera on where the Sidhe held court about half the time and that was enough to keep him watching. Adam sat in a slightly raised throne-like chair, his people arranged decoratively around him.

By the second hour, Niamh sat in Adam's lap, her head tucked close to his as she whispered something in his ear. The little fey she'd rescued sat on the floor looking like he wanted nothing more than to hide under Adam's chair. His head was pressed into Adam's thigh and every so often during the broadcast Adam would reach down and lay his fingers on his neck. The fey relaxed further with every touch until he was no longer shaking. Kris understood, knowing the effect of that touch very well.

Adam strummed his fingers casually over the lashes on Niamh's side, the arch of her back a high quivering note of pleasure. She curled back into his chest, eyes wicked as she pointed to something off screen. Adam looked up and then gestured at someone. A human couple threaded their way through Adam's gathered court and offered him semi-awkward courtesies. The woman was an actress from one of the new dramas that Danny liked, though Kris didn't recognize her partner. Adam said something to Niamh, clearly amused, and then handed her his silver whip.

She got up and wrapped the tails of the whip around the man's wrist, pulling him against her body to give him a deep kiss. She placed her hand around the back of the woman's neck, letting her sway in for a second kiss herself. Niamh gave Adam a short bow and then led her new prizes off.

Adam shifted slightly in his chair and encouraged the fey at his feet to come sit at his side. He looked around, shoulders hunched, but then hesitantly took the offered space. Adam wrapped his arm around the fey's shoulders and he pressed his face into Adam's side, shuddering with relief. The amused distance in Adam's face melted into something warmer, though there was a buried anger there, too.

Kris sat back and flipped the television off. He couldn't deny a part of him had liked watching Adam—had liked the way the leather of his outfit had shaped the gorgeous length of his thigh and the high round curve of his ass. Watching Adam's hand curl around the silver of the baton and the way so many in the crowd had stared at him, open hunger in their faces, had felt exciting, almost forbidden. But watching Adam on television wasn't helping. He couldn't solve this until Adam came back. And if Adam really had decided never to talk to him—well, he guessed he had his answer.

~*~*~*~*~

Kris rolled over and glared at his new enemy, the alarm clock. He didn't really need to know that he'd been lying here for three hours without sleeping. The ludicrous bed the fey had shoved into his bedroom was almost obscenely comfortable, but right now it just felt too large and painfully empty.

He threw the covers off and got up. Maybe a little TV would help him shut his brain off. He'd ended up falling asleep in front of the TV for the last five nights, listening for a sound at the door that never came.

Adam was lying on the couch, dead asleep.

Kris stopped in his tracks, momentarily stunned, but then he stomped over to the couch and gave Adam's shoulder a hard shove.

"Wake up."

Adam stirred and blinked up at him before bolting up and retreating to the far side of the couch.

"Where the hell have you been?"

"I'm sorry to disturb you. Coming back here wasn't exactly my choice." Adam reached down to the floor, searching for his shoes.

"Stop that."

Adam just ignored him and went on shoving his foot into his boot.

"I'll make it an order if I have to."

Adam gave him a blue-slitted glare but at last yanked his foot out of his shoe and sat back on the couch, arms crossed over his chest.

"What did you think you were doing—disappearing like that? People are trying to hurt you and you just go off and leave me here, not knowing a damn thing about what's happening to you. I was _worried_."

Adam tightened his jaw for a moment, but at last relented slightly. "I should have sent someone to keep you informed. I'll do that from now on."

"No, you should have just talked to me."

Adam turned his head away. "I didn't think we had anything to talk about." He sounded if possible even more tired than Kris felt.

It twisted something in Kris's chest—hearing him like that. It made it harder keeping up his own anger. "I just—I don't want you to leave."

"I wish I knew what you did want." Adam at least relaxed out of his defensive position and Kris risked sitting down next to him.

"I didn't mean it—not like that."

"Yes, you did," Adam said, angry again but mostly hurt.

"I'm sorry," Kris said, trying to convey how very much he meant it. It was hard when Adam still wouldn't look at him. "I was angry. You have to know I don't think of you that way."

Adam took a deep breath and slowly let it out before turning to Kris. "I didn't sleep with him."

Kris held his breath, not sure of what response Adam wanted to that.

"The wings—they start getting heavy after a while. Stephane said he had the same problem when he was younger. He suggested we could go out in the garden and find something to rest them on without everyone watching." Adam shook his head, looking annoyed. "He started getting a little handsy and then he decided I was just being coy when I told him we should stop."

"He _assaulted you_?" Kris said, hands curling into fists. God—he would, he didn't even know. Buy a ticket to France and teach that bony skank what no meant for starters.

" _No_ ," Adam said. "I punched him. And then when he thought that was just foreplay I told him he better stop unless he wanted to develop a lifelong deeply erotic attraction to thorn bushes. Thorns grow pretty large in Faerie and they're _everywhere_ —he got the idea pretty quickly.

"I told you I'm not helpless. I don't need you to be running around rescuing me all the time."

Kris uncurled his hands, trying to force his body to calm down. "I know you don't need rescuing all the time."

"Do you?" Adam said. "Because you've been doing a lot of running around behind my back putting yourself in a lot of danger for someone who doesn't think that."

Kris had really thought they were over this. "I told you. I'm sorry I got Allison mixed up in all of this."

"You don't get it, do you?" Adam said. "It wasn't just Allison I was worried about."

Maybe Kris had been missing something important after all. "Oh."

They just looked at each other.

"I wasn't thinking about what it would be like for you. Watching us," Adam said at last. "I should have. And, yeah, it was pretty selfish to just disappear."

"I was jealous," Kris said. That much was painfully obvious but he probably needed to admit it anyway. "That's why I was so angry."

"There wasn't any reason to be jealous. Not of Stephane."

Kris looked down. "He was touching you."

"But you could have. You _can_. I keep thinking that you want something from me but then you never do anything."

"I didn't want to be just another person forcing something on you." Kris looked at him, trying not to hope too much.

"Forcing something?" Adam said. "I've wanted you since the first night you brought me here."

"No—that—I would have noticed."

"I don't know if you realize this, but that hero thing of yours can be a little overwhelming. That day—you were so angry with that driver and even with Danny—for me, someone you didn't even know. And I was just so tired and you took me back here and were so _nice_. I needed that so badly right then." Adam gave him a small shrug, mouth curling up at one corner. "Plus, you're cute."

Adam looked at him, so hopeful and uncertain that Kris had to believe him. Kris turned towards him, heart thumping hard against his rib cage. He put his hands on either side of Adam's face, pulling their foreheads together. He closed his eyes and just breathed Adam in, focused on the softness of his hair where it brushed his fingertips, the warmth of his skin under his palms. He wanted this to last, wanted to be able to remember this, after.

"Kris," Adam sighed. Kris tilted his head, pausing just slightly before touching his lips against Adam's. Adam made a small, happy sound and Kris pressed into the kiss. He bit sharply at the full curve of Adam's lower lip, wanting to hear Adam gasp for him again. Adam pulled him closer and he twisted around, throwing a leg across Adam's thighs to straddle him. He'd been so afraid that kiss he'd shared with Niamh would have ruined this somehow, but this was nothing like that. Not with Adam's hands on his face, just holding him there as he licked into Kris's mouth. Or with the feeling of him under Kris, warm and solid and _real_. Adam rocked up against him, humming against Kris's mouth when Kris gasped.

Adam slipped his hand up under Kris's shirt and little trails of heat followed his fingers as they traced over Kris's skin. Kris had to tear his mouth away and press his face into Adam's shoulder. It was almost too much—Adam's mouth and his hands and the feel of him, hard and undeniable through the thin layers of their sleeping clothes.

"I'm right here, baby," Adam said into his hair. "You can have this."

Kris lifted his head and let Adam pull his shirt up over his head. He shivered, more from the dark hot look Adam gave him than the chill of the room. Adam ran his hand down Kris's neck and then down over his chest. He stopped just at the edge of Kris's boxers, his fingers teasing at the waistband.

"We can do whatever you want," he said. " _Anything_."

"I want everything," Kris said, tugging Adam's shirt over his head. Adam settled Kris back against the couch and slid his fingers back into Kris's waistband. Kris nodded a little desperately and lifted his hips long enough for him to tug his boxers down. Adam backed off, letting Kris watch as he shucked his pants.

He crawled back over Kris, rocking his hips against Kris in a long slow roll. The slide of Adam's erection against his felt strange, exciting. Kris wrapped his legs around Adam's hips and pulled him down for another kiss. Adam gave him his mouth, slow possessive kisses that matched the roll of his body against Kris's. His magic sparked along every point of contact, magnifying every touch almost too much.

Adam rolled slightly to the side, tearing his mouth away. Kris made a small sound of protest but Adam just licked his hand and settled it around Kris.

"I knew you'd be beautiful," he said, eyes hot as he slid his hand up Kris's cock, palming the head and then twisting back down.

Kris panted up at the ceiling, knowing if he watched this he wouldn't last five seconds.

"Did you think about me when you touched yourself like this?" Adam said, voice rough.

"You want me to. . . to talk? Now?" Kris gasped, trying to thrust harder into Adam's hand when he slowed his pace. Adam just moved his hand with him.

"Oh God. Okay. _Yes_. I thought about your hand on me—like that."

Adam hummed against the corner of his mouth and tightened his grip, moving it in long hard strokes.

"Your mouth," Kris said. "I—just _everywhere_." He turned his head to look into Adam's flushed face. "Your fingers. Inside me. You just—holding me down."

Adam kissed him, biting hard at his lower lip, and Kris jerked helplessly into his fist. Adam stroked him through it, his mouth softer on Kris's as Kris shuddered beneath him.

"I will," Adam said, hand gentle on Kris's belly as Kris calmed down. "All of it." He rolled more solidly on top of Kris, rocking harder against Kris's hip.

"No," Kris said. "No—I want to touch you."

Adam panted hard against Kris's neck but then let Kris roll them onto their sides. Kris dragged his hand across the wetness on his belly and then wrapped it around Adam. He moved it tentatively up Adam's erection and then down again, closing his fingers tighter. He liked the way Adam felt in his hand, liked the way Adam made a choked off sound and rocked his hips forward.

"I thought about this, too. Touching you."

Kris strengthened his grip, giving Adam the quick hard strokes he used on himself when he was close to the edge. Adam's eyes fluttered half closed and his breath came in quick pants.

"I want to see you," Kris said. "Let me see you." He twisted his hand around, dragging his fingernails up Adam's cock. Adam made a surprised, breathless sound and spilled into Kris's hand, his hips jerking hard a few more times before stilling.

Kris wrapped his leg up around Adam's hip, pulling him closer. He kissed Adam, slow, easy, and then again and again, wanting nothing more than the feeling of Adam against him. Adam just relaxed into him, warm contentment and a bright surprised happiness rolling off him in waves.

Kris wanted to spread him out beneath him, find what spots on his body would make him cry out, what sound he would make when Kris put his mouth on him for the first time.

"I saw you—on television the other night," Kris said. "I liked it. Seeing you like that."

"Did you?" Adam said, eyes thoughtful as they searched Kris's face.

"I think," Kris said, "that I want to take you to bed."

"Yes," Adam said. "Please."

~*~*~*~*~

Kris had been wrong before. His karma was fucking _awesome_.

"I love coming home to you," he said. He did. So, so much. Especially when he got Adam eager and desperate on his knees in the shower, his pretty mouth stretched around Kris's cock as he slid all the way down. And then Adam touching himself afterward, letting Kris watch as his hands slid slick and easy over his body under the spray.

Kris would do the inspection of the perimeter wards every day if this was going to be his reward.

Adam's hands stilled on his back and he leaned down to drop a quick kiss at the top of Kris's spine. "Me too."

He went back to working out the last of the knots in Kris's shoulders, occasionally pausing to place lingering open mouthed kisses on random parts of Kris's back. His magic spilled down from his hands, melting even deeper into Kris's muscles. Kris felt warm and blissed out, a sweetness like caramel on his tongue. He rocked into the pillow Adam had placed under his hips, enjoying the soft press of cotton against his naked skin.

Adam licked his way down Kris's spine, hands settling on Kris's ass. Kris hummed appreciatively and spread his thighs, hoping they were getting to the part of the day where he got really thoroughly fucked. Making out with Adam on the couch at lunch time had totally shot up into his top five favorite activities, but it tended to leave him a little worked up the rest of the day. With Adam entertaining the kids all afternoon, Kris couldn't exactly drag him off for a quickie in his office, either. That last half hour of inspections with Ron had been torture.

"Have you ever been spanked?" Adam asked, giving Kris a possessive squeeze.

Kris looked back over his shoulder in some alarm, but Adam just had that look of honest curiosity he'd worn when asking about all of Kris's kinks.

"No," he said slowly. He nodded at the question in Adam's eyes and Adam gave him an experimental slap, not hard but enough to sting. Kris sucked in a breath, a little surprised at the hot slide of anticipation that followed.

"Maybe tomorrow? After the party at the Embassy?" Watching Adam order people around was always hot. And afterward it would just be Kris and Adam in Adam's bedroom, Adam's overwhelming attention his alone.

"Yes," Adam said, rubbing his hand over the reddened mark on Kris's skin and making him jump a little.

"You'll wear the black leather—the one from the awards show?"

Adam crawled up over Kris's body and gave him a hard kiss. "I'll wear whatever you want."

Kris thought about what it would be like standing naked in front of Adam in that outfit and then lying across his lap, Adam's hands firm and sure on his body. "Yeah, that."

Adam took a ragged breath. "You have no idea how crazy you make me, do you?"

"Enough to go back to what you were doing, hopefully," Kris said, wriggling back against him.

"Patience," Adam said, settling back between Kris's thighs.

He spread Kris open with his hands, rubbing his thumbs up and down the cleft of Kris's ass.

"You'll love this," he said. He bent down and followed the path of his thumbs with his tongue.

"Oh," Kris said, rocking backward into Adam's hands. "Do that again."

Adam lowered his head, alternating those broad strokes with teasing little flicks of his tongue. He blew air across Kris's wet skin, making him jump hard against Adam's restraining hands.

"Adam," Kris said. "Adam, _please_."

Adam gave one cheek a sharp bite. "Shhh, baby, just let me do this for you."

He gave Kris's hole a few more little licks and then pushed just barely inside, short stabbing thrusts that had Kris thrusting uselessly back against him.

Adam raised his mouth and Kris instinctively lifted his hips. But then Adam was pushing two fingers into him, twisting them around and then pressing deeper. He spread Kris open with his other hand and then put his mouth back on him, running his tongue over Kris's skin where it was stretched around his fingers.

Kris writhed into the pillow beneath him, but the soft pressure against his aching erection was only enough to tease. He heard the breathless needy sounds coming from his mouth but he couldn't do anything to stop them.

"God, you're so hot like this," Adam said. "So desperate for me."

He thrust his tongue in alongside his fingers, going deep for a few strokes and then pulling out again to give Kris a few more little licks. He pressed his tongue up hard on the space behind Kris's balls and curled his fingers inside. Kris jerked his hips up with enough force to almost throw Adam off.

"Please, Adam. You. I need. _Please_."

Adam withdrew his hands and Kris nearly sobbed in relief when he settled them on Kris's hips, giving him a quick reassuring squeeze. Kris turned his forehead into his pillow and just breathed as Adam worked into him, slow, _slow_ , letting Kris feel every centimeter as he was pushed open.

Adam draped himself over Kris's back, grinding his hips into Kris's. His hands slid up Kris's chest, settling over his collarbone.

He pulled almost all the way out and pushed back in. He kept up those slow, claiming strokes, his big cock bumping hard against that spot inside Kris with every thrust and sending bright shocks of pleasure all through him.

"That's it, baby. Just take it." Adam nuzzled into the back of his neck and then up to his ear. "Let me make you feel good."

Adam kept up that soft litany in his ear, telling him how good he was, how perfect, as he fucked Kris over and over, unhurried and devastating. Kris tried thrusting back against him, but he couldn't move, not with Adam above and around and inside him, just _everywhere_.

Adam put three fingers against Kris's lips and Kris sucked them in, desperate for something, anything. He tongued the space between Adam's fingers and then just grazed his knuckles with his teeth.

"Fuck," Adam said, voice wrecked. His rhythm stuttered and then picked up, wild and harder, each thrust rocking Kris forward into the bed.

Adam yanked his hand out of Kris's mouth and wrapped it around his cock, stoking him hard and fast. "I want to feel you."

Kris felt feverish and shivery, pleasure gone way past the point of too much. His orgasm hit him hard, rippling up his spine and washing through his brain with white heat. Adam rode him through it, settling into short hard fucks into Kris's body as Kris shuddered beneath him. Kris twisted his hands in the sheets, feeling so blown and oversensitive just breathing seemed like a miracle.

Adam's fingers dug hard into Kris's collarbone. He groaned and thrust forward a few more times, grinding hard against Kris once more before collapsing on his back.

Kris loved this part of it—Adam heavy and real on top of him, hips still pressed hard against his. Adam nuzzled the back of his neck for a while, but then slowly eased out. Kris whined high in his throat, unhappy at the loss of contact.

"It's okay, baby," Adam said. "I'm right here."

He stroked a hand down Kris's back and sent a buzz of magic across Kris that felt like a bubble bath washing over his skin. Kris smelled something sharp and clean like a garden after a rainstorm and his skin felt energized and fresh.

Adam rolled him onto his back, hands gentle. After sex Adam was always careful and tender with him, like Kris was something special, breakable. Kris didn't know if Adam was just like this with everyone, but it made him feel warm and panicky at the same time.

They'd only had a little over three weeks together, but Adam already felt like something he couldn't afford to lose.

Adam settled in beside him and kissed him. He mouthed up Kris's jaw and ran a hand in calming circles over Kris's chest.

"Nnnrrgh," Kris said. And okay, that wasn't English.

Adam's head popped up. "What was that?"

Kris glared at him. Adam looked way too amused. "This is all your fault."

"Guilty!" Adam said, that happy grin that tightened things in Kris's chest spreading all over his face.

Adam looked happy a lot of the time now. Kris tried to just enjoy it and not think too hard about the future.

He pulled Adam down again, kissing him a little too desperately.

Adam ran his hand over Kris's chest to stroke at his hip and belly. He kissed his way down Kris's throat and started sucking at his collarbone.

"If you think we're having sex again any time soon, you're crazy."

"Mmmm," Adam said. He moved down to circle Kris's nipple with his tongue as his fingers slid up the inside of Kris's thigh.

"God you're insatiable," Kris said. "Okay, but _later_. I need to recover."

Adam rolled half on top of him, dragging his mouth back up to nuzzle at Kris's ear.

"I want you in my lap, riding me," he said. "So you can show me how desperate you are, how much you love my cock inside of you."

Kris shivered. "I do. Love it." He felt a little too open, exposed, but somehow it always felt easy, telling Adam things like that. Maybe because Adam already knew.

Adam kissed him again, a slow soft brush of lips, and then settled in against Kris's neck with a sigh. Kris ran his fingers through Adam's hair, more than content just to lie there for a while.

"We should go out somewhere sometime. Just the two of us," he said.

They had gone out to a club a few times with Adam's people. Kris had had to dress up in a little make up and enough glamour so the human media wouldn't connect him with his real image. Kris had liked it though—Adam's body hot and insistent against him on the dance floor and especially the sloppy drunken sex in the limo after, but he wanted something different.

"You mean like a date?" Adam asked.

"Yeah, a date."

Adam stilled against him and Kris wondered if he'd somehow said something wrong.

"I haven't been on a date in a long time," Adam said. "Years, I think."

"We'll go away somewhere for a night," Kris said, unreasonably annoyed. "No, for an entire weekend."

Adam propped his head up and looked down at him, mildly curious.

"Those people you live with are really weird," Kris said.

Adam tilted his head, eyes a little wistful but mostly amazed. "You want to go to the beach maybe? We own a house right on the water."

"No," Kris said. "I mean, I want to do it. I want it to be a surprise."

"Oh," Adam said. He tilted his head, looking a little apologetic. "You'll have to work it out with Baraz. He gets really cranky if he doesn't know where I am. And there'll have to be guards."

"I think I can handle Baraz," Kris said a little more confidently than he actually felt. But, hell, he'd do a lot more if it kept Adam looking at him like that.

"A surprise," Adam said, smiling. "This is exciting."

He tucked his head back on Kris's shoulder and Kris slid his hand back into Adam's hair, stroking just a little. Adam was pretty exciting. And new and important and scary. He knew it was impossible, that there were so many reasons why this shouldn't work. But he wanted it to—more than he'd wanted anything in a long time. And for that to happen, he thought there was something he was going to finally have to do.

~*~*~*~*~

Kris slid sideways down the row into his seat, apologizing to the other people as he tried not to trample on anyone's feet.

He was late. He'd gone back and forth about coming at all, finally dashing out the door with only twenty minutes to get to the theater.

When his mother had called him last week and told him hesitantly that Katy would be out in LA taking part in the Shakespeare festival after all he hadn't known what to think. There had been a time when he hadn't believed in fate. After the war the idea that there was some grand plan behind all of this had left him angry enough to punch a hole in his bedroom wall.

But then there was Adam just bursting into his life, a force of nature just too grand and sweeping to be left to coincidence. And now, Katy. Here. Although maybe that wasn't fate but only a second chance he should just feel grateful for.

And the truth was, despite everything that was tied up with her and the way they'd ended things, he wanted to see her.

Twelfth Night had never been Kris's favorite. When he'd read it back in high school it had seemed absurd to him, all of these twins and women dressed as men falling in love with other men. But this was not the awkward bored line readings he remembered from eleventh grade English.

And Katy was not the shy blushing ingénue she had always played back then, either.

She had the role of Olivia. In her earlier scenes she sat as a rose in a garden, the rich fabric of her elaborate dress and the pillows of her garden bower a fresh, virginal pink. She played it with the high-maintenance melodrama he remembered. But beneath the glitter of the pampered princess ran a deeper anger and grief as she sat there on display for the men who came to inspect her or court her or to order her life along their masculine plans.

That changed when the little dark-haired Viola strode in, sword on her hip and swagger to her step as she approached Olivia and bowed to her. Katy's face grew brighter, flushed with an excitement Kris remembered. She shifted to allow Viola a space beside her on the bower and leaned forward, lips parted when Viola declared love for her in the name of the Duke. Kris felt himself flushing a little, watching Katy like that, her fingers idle on Viola's arm while her other hand stroked herself above the line of her gown.

At the end, couples appropriately sorted out, Katy cast one final glance at Viola—that one look full of a confused longing that Kris felt deep in his chest. Viola kept her adoring gaze on Orsino and Katy looked away. She took a shaky breath but then smiled up at Sebastian, uncertain but with a determined hope as they exited the stage.

Kris waited until the applause died down and the crowd thinned before heading backstage, relieved when the guard on duty had his name.

He hesitated slightly before knocking on her dressing room door. There had been a time when he hadn't had to knock, but that had been years ago when the doors had only lead to the cramped shared space used by the community theater.

She shared the room with the woman who played Maria, but Kris found her alone, waiting for him.

At first glance she seemed like his Katy, his same beautiful girl in her simple dress and with her blonde hair falling carelessly out of its messy bun. It surprised him, how happy he was to see her, how much he wanted her to be that girl. And, for a moment, how very much he wanted to be the boy that girl had waited for all those years.

She stepped forward and lifted the flowers he'd brought from his hands.

"Thank you," she said, leaning in to kiss his cheek. Her scent was different—a subtle hint of citrus and rain instead of the drug store floral she used to wear.

She turned to put the flowers in the vase she had waiting on her dressing table. They were daisies. They'd always been from that first time when he'd just picked a few on a teenage whim on the way to her house. Later it had just felt romantic, a way of symbolizing that their connection was something that didn't require the usual roses and chocolates clichés.

He noticed that there were other flowers, great manicured bouquets that were stuffed into random spaces all over the room. She'd kept the space on her dressing table for him, though, with only a single spray of white orchids on the opposite side of the mirror.

She'd turned back and was just looking at him. And now he could see that it wasn't just her scent that was different. He'd spent enough time around Adam's court to recognize the expensive tailoring in her dress and the quality of the simple solitaire she wore around her neck. Her face was older, with less of the softness he remembered. She was probably seeing the same changes in him: the new lines by his eyes, the California tan, the way his face had finally lost some of that gauntness he'd worn by the end of the war.

He caught her trying to hide her hand in the fold of her skirt, but not before he saw the engagement ring on her finger. He hadn't been expecting that, wasn't prepared for it. The pain at seeing it surprised him. He didn't have a right to it—not the pain or the surprise. Not after the last two years and certainly not now, after Adam. But he could tell from the regret on her face that she could see both.

"Maybe we should go to dinner," she said, full of a patience that was also new.

He'd reserved a table at one of the quieter places by the theater with Lil's help. After a show even the less trendy restaurants had a good crowd, but it had a relaxed atmosphere Kris immediately liked and the blond guy at the piano seemed skillful but unobtrusive.

"I liked the play," Kris said, awkward as they'd rarely been. "It was different."

She smiled at him, and the pleased surprise was exactly what he did remember. "Our director is amazing. He makes us work pretty hard, but it was worth it."

"I was surprised to see you in this," he said. "Shakespeare never seemed your thing."

Theater had never been her plan, back when they were together. She'd wanted TV, some kind of role she could stick with for a while. The Katy he'd known hadn't always been comfortable with change. She'd gone to New York for a small part on a soap opera with the plan to move up into some cable niche show she could dwell in for years.

She gave a little self-deprecating laugh. "No, it really wasn't. But I took a few tiny parts when my coach said a live audience might be easier to connect with. I think the first few roles I got were just the directors doing her a favor, but it _was_ better. Scarier, but better."

"No, I get that," he said. It had been a long time since he'd performed for anyone but Adam and the kids at the daycare, but he remembered how much of a difference it made playing to real people.

She told the story of her first few disastrous appearances as their meals arrived. It felt easy, sitting back and just listening to her. It had always been part of their rhythm: her brighter dynamics filling up his quieter spaces. She asked a few questions about Danny and Lil, but there was too much there he couldn't say.

"It _is_ good to see you," she said at last. "I was happy when you called."

They hadn't spoken for almost the full two years before that. He'd felt so angry when she'd taken the job in New York. He'd been so lost and she'd been one of the only things he recognized. And then she'd just been gone with him left at odds in a life that belonged to someone else.

"I'm sorry I didn't before," he said. "It's just . . . it took me a while to figure out why you had to leave. But I get it now."

She blinked at him, two unattractive spots of color rising in her cheeks. "Why I had to leave?"

He reached over and covered her hand with his. "I told you I understand. I didn't want to be with me then either."

She snatched her hand away. "And that's what you've been thinking of me? That I'm that selfish?"

"Of course not." He pulled at the constriction of his tie. "It was too much for anyone. That's what I'm trying to tell you."

"I'm not the one who left," she said, voice loud enough to draw looks from the nearby couples.

He stared at her across the table. "But you—you went to New York."

"I never thought for one second that you wouldn't come with me," she said, quieter but with obvious strain. She blinked rapidly but then dabbed at the corner of one eye with her napkin. "It never even occurred to you to come, did it?"

He couldn't answer her but his silence was probably enough. She moved her chair closer and put her hand back on his. "We all knew you couldn't stay in Arkansas. You wouldn't talk to us, but we could tell you were in trouble. I thought it would be easier for you—for us—if we could just find a new place and start again together. But then you were just moving to LA without even telling me first."

He looked down at the table, feeling dizzy. He'd thought for so long that she'd gone to New York to escape. She'd been right, back then. He had needed a new life, but one, it turned out, that hadn't included her.

"I'm sorry," he said finally. Her smile as she squeezed his hand was natural even if there was still some strain on the edges. Maybe two years was enough to heal more than one kind of wound.

"You seem . . . better now?" she asked, her hand still sure on his.

"Yeah, I am," he said. It was true even if there had been a time when he couldn't have imagined that ever happening. He finally nodded at the ring on her finger. "And you—you're happy in New York?"

"His name is David," she said, the color in her cheeks warming. "He was one of the producers on my last play. We're getting married in the spring."

"I'm glad, Katy," he said. "Really.'

"I called in a few favors to get this part so I could come out here to see you," she said. "I couldn't just move on without making sure you were okay."

"I am," he said. "I . . . I've met someone. It's new . . . but it's good. I'm happy."

"You look it." She looked relieved—which was, he realized, how he was feeling about her engagement now that he'd had time to get used to the idea. She gave his hand one final squeeze and then resettled her chair on her side of the table.

"Shall we order dessert?" she asked, smile more carefully impersonal. She told him a bit more about her life in New York, the frustrations of the job, the crazy things her roommate got up to. Stories from a life he no longer shared. A life he could get to know, though maybe on a different level.

He walked her to her hotel suite at the end of the night. They stood there in the doorway, her key card already in her hand. She wasn't his golden girl any more and he sure as hell wasn't the boy who'd brought her daisies back in high school, but maybe that didn't mean this had to be an ending.

She'd been his friend long before she'd been anything else.

"I'll be here for a few weeks at least," she said. "Maybe we could have lunch before I go?"

"I'd like that."

"And maybe I'll see you at home for Christmas?" she said. "Your parents just want to see you. They don't care about anything else."

"I'll think about it," he said. Going back there—there were so many things tied up in that and it wasn't just having to face his family again. He didn't even know if Adam could go out east or if he even celebrated Christmas. But he thought maybe he'd like to take him, would like him to meet his parents and see the places Kris was just now starting to tell him about.

"Think hard," she said, mock-serious. She reached up and placed a soft kiss on his cheek and then she was gone, slipping through her hotel door and closing it behind her.

Kris stood there for a moment but then headed home himself. Adam was probably already there. Kris had wanted to tell him about tonight, about Katy, but maybe there were other things, future things, that they should think about, too.

~*~*~*~*~

Kris leaned into Adam, pleasantly buzzed from his third beer and the warm press of Adam's body all along his side. Adam just dropped his arm across Kris's shoulders and pulled him in closer.

"This is amazing," Adam said, leaning in to speak over the music. "You're amazing."

"That's true," Kris said. "You should probably tell me how awesome I am on a regular basis."

"I'll work on that," Adam said, giving Kris's shoulder a little caress with his thumb.

They'd headed up the coast for the weekend. The beach crowds tended to thin out towards the border with Western Faerie and you got a more interesting mixed human/fey culture. Dinner had been at a little Italian restaurant the brownies had recommended. They'd had the terrace nearly to themselves and it had been pretty easy to pretend they were just any other couple out for the evening. He thought maybe a few of the fey wait staff had recognized Adam but they all seemed too well trained to remark upon it.

Afterwards they'd gone to a new club Anoop had heard about where the band of the month was playing. Their style seemed to be an odd combination of Wagner, circus acrobatics and '70s glam, which meant of course Adam adored it from the second they'd appeared on stage. It wasn't Kris's usual thing, but the sheer spectacle was worth the price of admission—not to mention Adam's half-amazed half-envious look when the lead singer set her cape on fire.

"I used to know the drummer," Adam said. The selkie in question was currently contorting herself into yet another improbable shape while amazingly not losing her rhythm. "We played together in a really terrible dinner theater for a couple weeks."

"Do you ever talk to her?" Adam so rarely mentioned anyone from that period in his life.

"I'm not really supposed to associate with anyone from back then." Adam gave a little shrug. "I kind of miss it sometimes, though. Performing, I mean. I get to sing sometimes at some of our bigger celebrations, but nothing like this."

"I'm not sure anyone does anything like this."

"I _know_ ," Adam said, rapturous. Kris was pretty sure the singer was hitting notes too high for most of them to hear by this point. "They're just so innovative."

"I think I might start again. Playing in public, that is—not, you know, competitive contortionist opera," Kris said. He hadn't admitted that to anyone—not even really himself. "There's a bar near the house where Lil and some other people I know sing once in a while. I thought I could try it out."

Adam moved his hand to stroke the back of Kris's neck. "You should. You know you're incredible, right?"

Kris wasn't so sure about that, but he was happy to let Adam think so. "Yeah, maybe."

"And I can come and be your cheerleader!"

"Please tell me you don't actually own a cheerleading outfit." Although—the little skirt could be hot.

"That's not really my scene. _You'd_ look totally adorable, though." Adam raised an eyebrow. "I do own a couple of dresses—fishnets, too."

"I don't think Giraud's is really a fishnet kind of place. We could try those out at home afterward, maybe." Kris slid his hand from where it lay on Adam's knee halfway up his thigh.

"You do surprise me sometimes, Kristopher." Adam let his legs fall open and Kris moved his hand up a few more inches.

"Do you want to go up to the hotel?"

Adam glanced at the spectacle on stage but then leaned in and gave Kris a long, hard kiss. "I thought you'd never ask."

~*~*~*~*~

Kris pushed Adam backwards on the bed and crawled up after, pushing him down harder when he tried to flip them over. He scrambled at Adam's tie and then his shirt buttons, Adam's mouth eager and desperate under his. He finally just yanked the fabric of Adam's shirt apart and ran his hands up the warm, freckled skin of his chest.

He sat up and looked down at Adam where he was spread out underneath him. Lying there in the ruins of his shirt, lips kiss swollen and skin flushed with desire, he was about the most gorgeous thing Kris had ever seen.

"I really want to fuck you," he said, stomach tightening as Adam's breath caught.

"God, yes." Adam ran his hands up Kris's thighs where they sprawled across his hips. "I thought you didn't want that."

Didn't want that? Jesus. "I just wanted it to be right. I don't know, special." Kris looked down at his hands where they still lay on Adam's chest. "Maybe that sounds a little weird."

Adam sat up and wrapped Kris into a tight hug. "Oh, no, baby, I love that you wanted to wait. It's romantic." He backed up enough to take Kris's face in his hands and kissed him, eyes bright. "You're so good to me."

Kris slid off Adam's jacket and then the rest of his dress shirt. "You'll have to tell me what to do, how you want it."

"I don't think there's anything you could do to me that I wouldn't want." Adam tilted his head, his turn to be uncertain. "Is that enough—or maybe too much?"

Kris kissed him and tumbled them back onto the bed, pressing Adam's wrists up above his head with his hands. "I don't think there is such a thing as too much with you."

"You could tie me," Adam said, pressing his hands up against Kris's hold.

Kris rubbed his thumbs back and forth across the thin skin of Adam's wrists. He didn't really like the thought of anyone tying Adam up. But. "I don't think I'll have to. I think you're going to keep your hands here just because I told you to."

Adam smirked up at him, but he just moved his hands up to grip at the bars in the headboard when Kris let go of his wrists.

He dragged his fingers down Adam's bare skin to his waist. He stripped Adam slowly and then himself, staying just a little too far out of sight for Adam to watch.

He felt almost drugged, kneeling between Adam's spread thighs, listening to Adam's increasingly slurred voice tell him how to touch him. He slipped a second finger in beside the first and curled his fingers in that way that had Adam's muscles fluttering around him. He ran his free hand up Adam's gorgeous thigh and left it there, feeling the way Adam tensed and relaxed with every movement of his hand.

He thought he could watch this forever, the way Adam rocked down on his hand, how his face twisted when Kris touched him just right.

Kris ran his hand up Adam's cock and down again as Adam groaned and then panted against his arm. He bent down and took the head into his mouth, sucking just a little. He ran his lips over the ridge, not wanting anything more than just to feel him in his mouth. He scissored his fingers and Adam tightened hard around him.

"Kris," he said. "I _can't_."

Kris tightened his hand around the base of Adam's erection and reluctantly lifted his mouth. "You can. You will."

Adam took a few deep breaths but then nodded wildly. Kris took him back in his mouth, sliding up and down a few times in counterpoint to the movement of his other hand.

Adam panted hard under him, reduced to small breathy groans. It was tempting, just to bring him like this, but Kris pulled his mouth off of him and slid his fingers free.

He slicked himself quickly, having to press hard at the base of his own dick to keep from coming. He was never going to last, not with Adam looking like that.

He pushed into Adam, sinking in in one long slow thrust. He leaned forward over Adam and pressed his head into Adam's chest, trying desperately to get control of himself.

Adam wrapped his legs around Kris and dug his heels into the small of his back.

"Come on. _Fuck me_." He rocked himself down on Kris as best he could, taking him even deeper. "Now, Kris. _Now._ "

Kris pulled all the way out and back in hard, and then again, shifting the angle until Adam cried out and tightened hard around him.

"There, oh _there_." Kris picked up the pace, pounding in against that spot until Adam dug his heels in harder and came in wet spurts between them.

Kris slid his hands under Adam's knees and shoved them up against his chest, slamming in deep and hard as Adam made these gorgeous wordless little sounds. He pushed in one last time and let his orgasm roll through him, feeling it just everywhere.

Adam let his legs slide down and they just laid there for a while getting their breath back. Kris at last rolled off to the side, already missing the feeling of Adam's legs around him.

Adam looked so flushed and beautiful and just generally fucked out that Kris had to kiss him. He sighed and rolled into Kris, lips curling into a sated smile.

"I needed that," he said.

"Glad to be of service."

"Mmm," Adam said. He kissed Kris again, a little messy. "Thanks for our date. I had a really good time."

"I'm not really done with you yet," Kris said. He slid his hand down Adam's sweaty back and then pressed two of his fingers back inside.

"I liked this," he said, moving his fingers in a lazy rhythm.

"I noticed." Adam wrapped his leg up over Kris's hip and hitched his body up, letting Kris press his fingers deeper.

"I want to try it with a vibrator," Kris said, feeling a little wild. "And just watch you, just from that."

Adam took a loud breath and tightened around him. "I have several at the palace."

Kris sucked at his nipple and then began kissing his way down his chest.

"Or we could go toy shopping," Adam said, voice scratchy. "Let you show me just exactly what you want to do to me."

"Yes," Kris said. "That. Let's do that."

"Okay," Adam said, putting his hand on Kris's shoulder and pushing him down. " _Tomorrow_."

~*~*~*~*~

"We're in public you know," Kris said.

Adam gave him another one of those _looks_ over the top of his sunglasses and pulled his red-stained lips from the straw of his strawberry smoothie.

"That's why I'm playing with the straw and not you." Adam raised an eyebrow. "And you can stop groping me if you're that concerned about public decency."

Kris looked down at where his hand lay on Adam's thigh and snatched it away. He hadn't even realized he was doing it. It was like his hands had a mind of their own these days. Adam was just right _there_ , warm and easy and touchable.

He scooted a few inches away from Adam down the bench. Not that it would help. Adam gave him an amused look and took another loud sip from his drink.

Kris rummaged through the bags at his feet. They'd come downtown to shop for his mother's birthday and to get some chilies for Thorn from Grand Central Market. It was just the sort of stupid normal stuff people did every day in this city, but Adam had lit up at the idea and Kris was pretty okay with letting Adam look at him like that just for suggesting they run a few errands.

"I'm not sure about this vase," he said. His Mom loved flowers but it seemed a little lame as a gift. "Maybe we should go back for that necklace."

"And here I thought I was supposed to be the high-maintenance one in this relationship."

They maybe had gone to a lot of stores that morning. Kris sighed and looked up from the bag. "I just want to get it right."

"I know, baby," Adam said. "And, hey, we can take all afternoon if you want. I don't have to be anywhere until tonight."

Kris sat back against the bench. Maybe they could go back to that artist. His mother might like something more unique.

The crowd going in and out of the market shifted and parted, briefly revealing the scarred angry brownie the bartender from The Sithen had showed Kris and Allison. Kris caught sight of him once more but then when he sat up straighter to get a better look the brownie had disappeared.

"Adam," Kris said, grabbing Adam's hand, "we have to go. Now"

"The stores aren't going to run out. I think we can afford to finish lunch."

Kris yanked Adam to his feet, scattering their packages. A quick glance confirmed what he'd already feared—the two carefully disguised Sidhe guards Baraz had trailing them had disappeared from their spot two benches down. Adam followed Kris's line of sight and made a small gasp, hand going tight in Kris's.

"I know," Kris said. "Come on."

He pulled Adam through the crowd, leaving the bags behind. "We just need to get to a doorway and you can make us a portal to the Sanctuary."

"Kris, no—there's a teleportation block on most of downtown."

Kris came to a halt. Why the hell had he thought it was such a great idea to bring Adam to a crowded space they couldn't escape from? He scanned the area quickly, knowing that the people after them could be everywhere and probably were.

"We'll get a few blocks away and catch a taxi. They can't be controlling every cab in the city." He looked up at Adam's pale, scared face. "It'll be all right. I'm not letting any of them touch you, okay?"

Adam jerked his head in a nod and let Kris lead them off towards the financial district. There was a high terrified scream behind them and Kris pulled them into a run.

Adam cried out and his hand pulled sharply away from Kris's. Kris spun around to find Adam fallen on one knee, his hands clutched at his neck. He took a step back to help him but Adam flung up a hand to stop him.

"You can't. They kill humans." Adam dropped his other hand and Kris saw there was something wrapped around his neck. It had a long, oily silver body with parallel rows of fin-like wings and a round flat head that was attached to Adam's throat. A trickle of blood drained down from below its head and was already staining Adam's shirt.

"Tell me how to get that off." Kris reached into his boot for his knife. It was the only one he'd brought and that only from habit. How the hell had he been so stupid?

"You don't. You have to leave." Adam fell forward on one hand and took a few deep breaths. "Find Baraz."

"That's not happening." Kris took a defensive stance in front of Adam, blocking him from the now panicked crowd that bolted in every direction. He saw another streak of silver and a man a few feet away collapsed on the sidewalk.

"They'll kill you. Just go. _Please_."

Kris glanced down at Adam. He was leaning heavily on one arm and looked ready to collapse even further. "There is no way I am leaving you here."

Adam lifted his head. There were dark gray lines spreading from where that thing attached to his neck up his throat and down under his t-shirt. "No spells. The Djoshiruk—they're attracted to magic."

Kris nodded and dug into his pocket for his phone. He had time to dial Baraz when the first of their attackers split from the crowd. He was a small man, but quick, and he was covered in a gray shifting film that obscured his features. He ran at Kris, raising a gun.

Kris dodged to the side and sang a quick few bars of an offensive spell. Adam said no magic, but those silver worm things wouldn't matter if Kris got shot first. He threw the spell, hoping the creatures would follow the strongest point of magic. The force of the spell hit the gray man and flung him to the ground. One of the worms streaked through the air towards him, but only bounced off and headed back into the crowd.

Kris heard Baraz pick up the phone but he could only hope Baraz could figure out what was happening from the screaming. Another man ran at them, knife in each hand, and Kris had to throw the phone in Adam's direction.

Kris blocked the man's first swing with his forearm. The gray spell that obscured his skin burned Kris's arm and he stumbled back. He tensed for the expected return swing of the knife, but his opponent only fell forward as Adam grabbed his ankle. He kicked Adam on the side of the head, sending him sprawling to the sidewalk, and turned to face Kris again.

Kris blocked another cut, ready for the pain this time, but he slowed enough that the third swing ducked under his defenses enough to cut a long shallow slice across his stomach. Burning pain erupted along the wound, but Kris fought threw it, bringing his own knife around to take advantage of the man's overextended reach. He felt his knife go in deep, jarring hard against bone. The man made a gurgling sound and fell back, taking Kris's knife with him.

The pain flooded through Kris's chest, squeezing at his lungs. His numb legs gave way and he fell hard to his knees.

"Kris!" Two more of the gray men had Adam and were dragging him to the street where a van waited. He struggled wildly against their hold, temporarily breaking free of one. A third hit him hard across the side of his head and he went limp.

"Adam," Kris said, crawling forward on the sidewalk on one arm.

"What about the other one?" one of the men asked.

"He's dead anyway. We need to get out of here."

They threw Adam into the back of the van and disappeared after him. The van peeled away as Kris collapsed completely, head hitting hard against the concrete.

~*~*~*~*~

Kris woke to a dense gray fog of pain. It sang through his veins with every breath, keeping him teetering on the edge of unconsciousness.

Thorn's wizened face swam into view above him. "You need to stay still."

"Adam," Kris said, voice grating against his dry throat. "They took Adam."

Thorn cried out in alarm as Kris tried to sit up. Hot agony stabbed through his stomach and the fog rolled back over him.

~*~*~*~*~

The next time consciousness returned to him he stayed still, not even wanting to open his eyes. Sweet remembered coolness pressed against his skin and the pain had banked to a dull throb in his abdomen.

He knew this place, knew the silken caress of the sheets and their clean fresh smell.

"Adam," he said, opening his eyes to Adam's bedroom at the palace. But when he turned his head Adam's space beside him was empty.

He felt the bed shift and looked up to find Baraz sitting on the edge. Kris struggled to sit up. A hard pain bloomed in his stomach when he moved, but it was nothing like before and he fought through it. "Tell me you found him. You have to have found him."

Baraz was somehow shaking his head, as if that made any sense at all. Baraz couldn't be here, not with Kris, if Adam was still missing.

"We have found no sign of him. They planned well."

"Then why are you just sitting there? You know what they'll do to him." Kris fought down his own memories of Adam tied to that dying tree and the silver knife that glowed with its own light. He couldn't think about that happening to Adam now, he _couldn't_.

"We have done nothing but search for three days. All we have determined is that he was not taken through any of the portals to Faerie." Baraz closed his eyes, as close to an indication of fatigue as Kris had ever seen from him. "I am here because you, Mr. Allen, represent our remaining hope of finding him while there is still time."

"Don't you get it? There isn't any time." Kris threw the covers off and moved towards the end of the bed, but Baraz stopped him with a firm hand on his arm.

"So long as you live and the connection remains between you, they will be unable to cast the binding spell."

"Even if he is safe from that—you weren't there the first time. You didn't see what they did to him. We can't wait." He set his feet on the floor and tried to stand up but the weakness in his legs sent him tumbling back to the bed.

"I realize it is difficult, but you are the only protection he has right now. Staying in bed is the best thing you can do for him." The irritation in Baraz's tone was almost reassuring.

"You said I could help him," Kris said, hand pressed tight across his stomach.

"The spell between you provides a line of connection. With your help I may be able to follow it back to him."

Kris let himself collapse back against the pillows, appalled at the weakness that made even sitting an effort. "What are you waiting for? They could be doing anything to him."

Three days. Jesus, _Adam_. Kris had promised him he'd be safe. He'd promised.

Baraz's hand on Kris's arm was oddly gentle. "You are apparently unaware of this, but the blade that wounded you was coated with one of our worst poisons. Were it not for the intervention of your brownie friends we would not be having this conversation. It was only just now that we were able to wake you."

"I'm awake now. Tell me what to do."

A thin line of worry appeared between Baraz's eyes, but he nodded. "You must calm yourself. Think of things which connect you and not the fear of your separation."

Kris nodded and closed his eyes.

Baraz settled his hands on either side of his face. The slight electric buzz of his magic wasn't nearly as easy to submit himself to as Adam's but Kris fought to relax into it as it surrounded him.

He tried to do as Baraz had asked and push aside the panic that choked his throat. Two years ago cutting off whatever remnants of himself that felt anything but the need to get through each moment would have been easy. But he wasn't that person any more, and the parts of himself that were connected to Adam were the ones that wouldn't easily fit into that space.

"I have some understanding of how challenging this must be," Baraz said, his beautiful voice coming as if from a far distance, "but you must try."

Kris took a deep breath and wrenched his mind away from his terrified images of what must be happening to Adam. He thought about the last time he and Adam had been in this bed, the feeling of Adam's hands on his body and his mouth on Kris's. He thought about how Adam sang for the kids most afternoons and how Kris listened for the sound of it each and every day. He pictured him dancing at the club with Allison, his beautiful laugh ringing out over the sound of the crowd.

And at last he thought of the small things, the secret things, the things Kris hadn't even admitted to Adam yet: how his morning didn't really start until Adam handed him a cup of coffee and a quick kiss to the side of his mouth, how beautiful Adam was when he was happy, how even the smallest touch could make Kris ache with wanting him.

He felt it then, a warm bright spot in his mind that felt like the most intimate touch of Adam's magic. He realized that it had always been there in the back of his head, had been ever since that first night when Adam had kissed him and bound them together.

 _Kris? Kris!_

He was shoved hard out of the warm feeling of contentment that had overtaken him. He felt the ghost of other sensations overlying him—a cold burning feeling in his wrists and across his chest, a brighter spot of pain on his collarbone and side, and, worse, an oily feeling of _wrongness_ oozing from those spots through his whole body. The panic he'd been holding carefully at bay slammed back into him and he was trapped back in that moment watching Adam being dragged away while pain dragged him to the sidewalk.

Energy jolted into him, running up his spine and shorting out all thoughts in his head. When he came back to himself a moment later, all feelings of Adam were gone and Baraz was swearing violently beside him.

"What? What is it?" Kris moved to sit up and realized that the pain was gone and although shaky he managed it much more easily than before.

"I knew Ailill was given to spectacular acts of stupidity, but this is beyond anything I imagined even him capable of."

"What did he do?" Kris pulled at the bandages on his stomach and found only smooth whole skin beneath.

"He has sent you a good part of his magic. Which means instead of days we have perhaps hours."

Kris dropped his shirt and looked up at Baraz. "I thought you said he was safe as long as I'm alive."

Baraz stood. "I said he was protected from the binding spell as long as the connection remains between you. The Djoshiruk feed on magic. Ordinarily for a prince of his heritage it would take a week or more before they began to feed on the spell that connects you. Now we will be lucky to have until morning."

Kris shoved himself off the bed. "Were you able to see where he is?"

"A general area only. He overwhelmed the connection before I was able to find a precise location and now the line between you is too weak to bear another attempt." Baraz turned to go.

"Wait, I'm coming with you."

Baraz only glanced over his shoulder and then called to a servant waiting in the next room. "Help him with whatever he needs and then bring him to my office."

The dryad bowed at Baraz and then he swept off. She brought Kris dark fatigues and then a variety of knives and a handgun when he asked for them. It was no great surprise that she offered the exact varieties he had favored in the Division. He strapped them on, hoping it had not been so long that he'd worn this skin that he forgot how to use it.

He ran through old war spells and defensive charms on the way to Baraz's office. He'd been practicing them again ever since he'd found Adam all those months ago, but he was keenly aware that practice and use were different things.

Baraz's office was overstuffed with fey from Adam's court and a few more he didn't recognize. Allison grabbed his hand and pulled him down beside her on the couch.

Baraz had projected a map of the greater Los Angeles area and had focused on a ritzier neighborhood along the coast just to the south of the city. It was a human neighborhood—the kind where each huge complex was like its own mini-fortress. And where money went, so did the strongest of the protective spells.

"Our scrying spells have already proven unsuccessful at searching this area," Baraz said. "If the prince is here, we will have to work on dismantling the humans' protective barriers while we search house to house."

Kris frowned at the map. "That will take too long."

Baraz raised an eyebrow. "I am willing to entertain alternative suggestions."

"A place like that—it has servants. Which in LA means brownies usually. I can ask Marigold and Thorn if they have any connections over there."

Baraz frowned. "I do not believe the people who have Ailill would have been foolish enough to keep servants."

"No," Kris said, "but their neighbors will. In that kind of place the neighbors always keep an eye on what everyone else is doing. Whoever has Adam has probably had extra security the last three days at least. Someone will have noticed something."

Baraz tensed but then nodded once. "Your brownie friends have been waiting on your recovery. It will cost us little to ask while preparing for the alternative."

"Do you think that will work?" Allison asked quietly.

"I don't know," Kris said. "But I know searching each house will only put them on alert and will probably catch the attention of the Triad, too. Which even Baraz can't want."

The dryad reappeared with Marigold and Thorn.

Thorn sidled over to Kris and handed him an oat cake.

"Take this," he said. "It will help with the weakness you are feeling."

"I told you it would come to this," Marigold said to Baraz, hatred transforming her face. "I told you that you should have left him where you found him."

The amused disdain in Baraz's face was a hundred times more cutting than the worst of her anger. "You still cling to that thought as if it were ever the remotest possibility. A prince may visit the gutter but he is not allowed to live there."

"And you've done so much better for him? This is twice now that you've failed to protect him."

Baraz bared his teeth in what was more dagger twist than smile. "Whereas you, little one, could not even protect him from me."

She raised a hand and Kris leapt between them. "What the hell are you doing? Adam is in trouble and this is not helping."

Baraz inclined his head as Marigold crossed her arms over her chest, but at least both fell silent. Kris quickly explained the situation, hoping Thorn at least might be reasonable.

"I have a cousin who works in that neighborhood," Marigold said. "She ordinarily would not help the Sidhe, but Adam has always been good to the so-called lower fey. And she used to like to hear him sing, back when he was allowed such things."

She went with Thorn to cast what spells the brownies used to communicate with each other. Kris gathered from their demeanor that this kind of magic wasn't something they ordinarily revealed anywhere near the Sidhe. She returned a tense ten minutes later and pointed to a spot on Baraz's map.

"If he's anywhere, it's here," she said. The complex was on the end of its street and was bounded by high sea-cliffs on two sides.

Baraz frowned at the image. "They will likely expect any attack from the land side. It may be advisable to approach from the cliffs despite the difficulty."

"How much do we trust these maps?" Kris said. "The people in that neighborhood don't exactly register all of their defenses down at town hall."

"They are from human satellite images," Baraz said. "As far as I have been able to determine, the humans have only placed protections against fey magic, not human interference."

"How did you get satellite images? I didn't think Sidhe magic interacted with human technology very well."

Baraz gave him a tight self-satisfied smile. "Indeed it does not. I learned long ago that your technology grants humans much where magic fails. I have spent some time in learning how to manipulate your data systems to my advantage."

Kris just blinked at him.

Kris heard the door open behind him and then the startled murmur of the crowd behind him. He turned around and then immediately went down on one knee—just like all the fey in the room.

"I hear you have found my son," Eilín said.

"A possibility only, Majesty," Baraz said evenly.

"You told me he would be safe here, Baraz," she said. "You told me if I let him go he would be happy."

"We will find him."

"And how am I to believe you after all of this?"

"Because I will not countenance the alternative."

There was a slight pause.

"Get up, all of you," Eilín said. "We don't have time for that now."

Kris got to his feet. The Eilín before them was one he barely recognized. Gone were the elaborate gowns that humans expected from fey royalty. Instead she wore slick blue leather that was not unalike some of Adam's outfits and her hair was bound in a neat golden braid. On her back she bore a long sword and a brace of throwing knives crossed her chest.

"You appear to be dressed for combat," Baraz said. Somewhat unnecessarily to Kris's mind, but he wasn't about to interrupt.

"I will be going with you," she said.

"Is it safe—for you to be leaving Faerie at this time?" Baraz asked, giving Kris a sidelong glance.

"He is in danger," she said. "Where else would I be?"

Baraz dipped into a brief bow.

She came up to Baraz's projection of the compound. "Now tell me how you plan for us to rescue my son."

~*~*~*~*~

Kris struggled up the cliff face, only managing it through the occasional intervention of Allison and Niamh on either side of him. The rest of the fey seemed to be managing it with little trouble, but Kris was determined and didn't let himself fall behind.

The ledge of the cliff above offered little space between its edge and the wall of the compound. Kris was not foolish enough to lean on the wall, however.

The Sidhe cast silent identification spells, causing the protection runes in the walls to glow faintly. They pulsed in what should have sent a message back to whomever had cast them, but the Sidhe turned the magic outward so the warning was sent harmlessly out into the night. He saw Eilín and Baraz working together by the light of the runes slowly untangling each one until a short blank space appeared in the wall.

The Sidhe formed a ladder along the wall, boosting each other and then Kris and Allison up over the top more quickly than Kris would have believed.

They ghosted across the lawn, protected by Niamh's silencing spell. Kris put his foot on the flagstones surrounding the pool without incident but when Niamh followed the entire area was flooded by bright light.

A squadron of the gray men stood between them and the door. Kris dove for the ground as the took their first aim and fired. The bullets went wildly awry as they hit the fey's defensive spells, but it wasn't their real attack.

They began singing, their perfectly trained voices flowing through the exact repetitive rhythms Kris had been taught were most effective against the Sidhe. The Sidhe beside him slowed and then stumbled, hands on their ears. The second round of bullets was deflected by the brownies' efforts, but Kris knew that their magic had limits against steel.

Kris listened to the melody go through another cycle and then added his voice to it, singing just a second behind, a step off key. Niamh stirred beside him, but he knew he wasn't going to be enough, not alone. Allison stared at him and then added her voice to his, following his lead through another cycle. Her voice was strong and warm, giving strength to Kris's efforts. Niamh, free now, added her high perfect voice to Kris and Allison's and ruined the harmony of the humans' voices completely.

He saw Baraz and Eilín struggle to their feet and draw their swords. One and then another of the humans slunk away from the group and ran for the house and then the others broke free as a pack and scattered.

"Find him," Eilín said. "We will deal with these."

Baraz nodded and then gestured at Kris's group to follow. He caught one of the fleeing gray men and stripped the protective spell from him with a gesture. Niamh grabbed him by one arm and twisted it up behind his back.

Baraz walked up to him and placed a finger on his forehead. The man began screaming, high terrified shrieks that reminded Kris of Inir's last hours.

"Tell me where the prince is or I will make sure you live in that space for the rest of your very long life."

A second touch reduced the man to low groans. Baraz raised his hand again and the man flinched. "You'll free me after?"

"Yes," Baraz said.

"He's in the north wing—on the second floor."

"My thanks," Baraz said. He reached out and touched the man's forehead again, sending him to his knees in pain. "Niamh, give the man his freedom."

Niamh dropped a dagger in front of the kneeling man as they turned for the house. His screaming stopped before they even reached the door.

"Aren't the others at risk for more singing spells?" Kris asked as they sprinted toward the stairs.

"Eilín is wise enough to temporarily deafen them. It is a risk in battle, but Faerie knows few better warriors than she."

Baraz and Niamh sprinted ahead, crushing two more of the gray men to the side and over the staircase as they went. Baraz headed down the north hallway, but Kris grabbed his arm and pointed to the east.

"No, I think it's this way." He couldn't say why except that spot in his head where Adam had been seemed to be tugging him in that direction.

Baraz glanced down the north hallway but then nodded. They went down one hallway and then another at Kris's direction, coming at last to a heavy door.

"It is spelled against magic," Baraz said.

"And here you thought that century I spent in Paris was a waste of time," Niamh said. She pulled two lockpicks from her hair and knelt in front of the door.

Baraz wandered a few feet down the hall and cast a wavering barrier. "That will last some few moments. I think it unwise to invest the magic in a stronger protection."

Niamh undid the lock with a few deft twists and then nodded at Baraz. He took up his sword in one hand and Niamh pushed the door open.

Baraz slid through, Kris and Allison at his heels. Adam lay upon the bed, seemingly unconscious. One of the silver creatures was attached to his collarbone and another lower on his side. One of the gray men bent over him, withdrawing a vial of blood.

He stood up abruptly, going for the gun at his hip. But Baraz was faster. He took two steps into the room, arm already in motion, and beheaded the man in one clean sweep of his sword.

The Djosiruk attached to Adam twitched and then settled and Baraz took a step back.

"Leave. Slowly," he said, reaching into his shirt for a softly glowing vial. He backed up, not taking his eyes off Adam, until he'd reached the door. He flung the vial at the opposite wall hard enough to shatter it and then leapt backwards, pushing Allison and Kris back into the hall. He slammed the door shut and then raised a barrier across it.

"What are you doing?" Kris said. "Adam's in there. They're hurting him."

"His magic is low enough that the Djoshiruk will be looking for another meal," Baraz said. "Did they choose any of us it would mean death for you or incapacitation for the rest of us. I had to give them no choice in alternatives."

There was a muffled sound on the opposite side of Baraz's barrier in the hall and Kris looked up to see a group of the gray men and the brownie from before on the opposite side.

"I think we will have company soon," Kris said.

"Good," Niamh said. "I've been wanting some exercise."

"They were enough to capture Ailill to begin with," Baraz said. "We should be wary."

A high pitched shrieking sound made its way through the door only to die off a few seconds later. Baraz removed the covering from the door and they tumbled through.

Adam lay wide-eyed on the bed, staring at the headless body on the floor in clear horror. The Djoshiruk lay writhing on the opposite side of the room in Baraz's glowing liquid.

"Do not touch him," Baraz said. "The Djoshiruk venom will be dangerous for you yet."

Kris ran over to the bed, hands curling into fists when he saw the iron circling Adam's abraded wrists and lying across his bare chest. Outside of the red marks from the chains and the wounds from the Djoshiruk, he was icy pale and covered in those gray lines.

"Kris," Adam said, voice barely strong enough to hear, "you shouldn't be here. Baraz, you need to get him out of here."

"Rest easy, Highness," Baraz said. "We will none of us tarry here any longer than necessary."

Kris knelt to deal with the chains. They fell open with a simple unlocking spell and Kris tossed them off of Adam. Baraz settled by his side and took his face in his hands, gently smoothing the sweat-dampened hair from his face. A bright pulse of magic flowed from his hands over Adam's skin and Adam gasped.

Baraz gave Kris a quick nod and Kris undid the manacles from around Adam's wrists. Baraz slid a hand under his back and shifted him up to lie against his shoulder. He kept a still-glowing hand against Adam's back to steady him and the gray lines retreated beneath his touch.

"No, Baraz, it's too much. You'll hurt yourself." Adam pushed weakly against him but Baraz caught his hand and stilled him.

"It was my failure that brought you to this place, Highness. I do no more than is necessary."

"That's bullshit and you know it," Adam said weakly. "You didn't—you didn't do this."

Baraz just strengthened his hold and Adam let himself slump against his shoulder. Baraz reached back into his shirt and came out with a second vial. Adam drank it with a grimace and Baraz at last let Kris take his weight.

Adam fell heavily against him. "Sorry. I'm so sorry, I can't—"

"It's okay. You'll be okay," Kris said, wrapping both arms around him and pulling him in. Adam's skin was still ice cold and he was shivering violently. But he was here and he was still Adam and not the empty zombie they'd made of Fearghas.

Kris felt Allison sit beside them. She put her hand on Adam's arm and Kris felt his skin warm.

"Alli, no," Adam said.

"You need it more than I do." Allison looked at Kris. "It won't replace his magic but it'll help heal what the Djoshiruk did."

Adam moved to protest again and Kris tightened his hold. "Like you can talk. What did you think you were doing, sending me most of your magic?"

"You were in so much pain—I could _feel_ it. And then you were gone from my head and they told me they'd killed you."

Kris turned his face into Adam's hair. "I was fine. The brownies rescued me. We were just trying to find you. I wasn't in any danger, I promise."

Allison at last dropped her hand and Niamh knelt beside the bed. Her sharing of magic was less significant than the other two, but Adam still sat up straighter after her touch.

"I will find the ones responsible for this, Highness," she said, eyes glinting. "And then I will present you with their skins as a wall decoration."

Adam managed a weak smile. "I don't think that would really go with the palace décor."

"Don't worry," she said, patting his knee, "I'll make the space for it."

"Highness," Baraz said, "I would that I could give you more time, but the barrier spell will not hold for much longer."

Adam nodded and let Kris and Allison lift him to his feet. He swayed a bit but remained standing once Kris steadied him. The crowd on the opposite side of the barrier spell had grown significantly larger.

"Stand back," Baraz said. He made a gesture and the floor of the hall fell in a series of uneven stairs to the ground floor below. Allison and Kris helped Adam down as Naimh and Baraz kept the staircase in place. The two of them leapt down after and let the staircase collapse, closing the way to those who came after.

Baraz took the lead as they lurched down a hallway to the rear exit. Two Sidhe appeared from a side hallway, hands glowing with a magic Kris didn't recognize.

"Leave the prince and we will let you go," the one on the right said. "You know our quarrel was never with you, Baraz."

"Did you really think I would cede the field to the likes of you?" Baraz asked. "I had no idea you had such a sense of humor, Bran."

"He may present no challenge, but I believe even you would not find me so easily dismissed." Riagán walked around the corner and took up a space behind the other two.

"Uncle?" Adam said, "What are you—you came too?"

"I am deeply sorry, Ailill," Baraz said, "but I am afraid I must tell you this traitor did not come to rescue you."

"You would be wrong about that," Riagán said. "But you are wrong about a lot of things. You never understood me—or him for that matter. Rescuing him is exactly what I've always wanted."

There was noise in the hallway behind them and Niamh and Allison turned to face the brownie and his men. Kris took Adam's weight on one arm and loosened his gun in its holster with the other.

Baraz raised his sword. "Even the three of you represent no more than temporary challenge."

Riagán nodded. "I have enough respect for your reputation to allow that that might be true even weakened as I sense you are. But I have other resources at my command."

He withdrew a syringe and sank it into his arm, depressing the plunger almost immediately. "I have long played the dutiful prince. I have gone to visit sacred Liandra once a week with proper humility for many years now. Now that her mind wanders it is easy enough to cast enough glamour to take a small sample with each visit. Her blood lacks the potency it once did, but I find it useful enough for my purposes."

He raised a hand and Kris stumbled back as the weight of one of the minor currents flooded down the hallway. Adam tightened his grip around Kris's shoulders and together they managed to keep to their feet.

The darkness that pooled at the end of the hallway shifted and then one Shadow and then another stepped forward.

"Stand against me you may do, but against these?" Riagán shook his head. "It would be better for us all if you could accept defeat gracefully. I will only shed more blood if you force me to, Baraz."

A ball of light appeared in Baraz's hand and he threw it at the first of the Shadows. It collapsed on the ground trapped in golden ropes.

"Baraz, no," Adam said, struggling against Kris's grasp.

But Baraz leapt forward, sword igniting with that same golden light. He rolled under the first sweep of the other Shadow's sword and plunged his own into its back. The Shadow shrieked, a high inhuman sound. The sword exploded, taking the Shadow with it.

Baraz fell back against the wall, cradling his sword hand against his chest. The bands holding the other Shadow captive dissolved and it stood. Baraz dodged away from its first thrust and ducked under the second.

Bran lunged forward, ugly scowl on his face, and thrust his sword into Baraz's back as he slid to avoid another attack from the Shadow. Baraz fell to his knees and Bran kicked him forward, freeing his sword.

The Shadow raised its blade and closed in.

"Stop," Adam said. "Uncle, _please_ , you can't mean to do this."

Riagán looked up at him and nodded. "He is no danger to us now and I want no part in killing a legend. If he can survive the wound he may yet learn the error of his ways."

Bran's face twisted but he stepped back followed by the Shadow.

"You are the only one I require," Riagán said, looking at Adam.

Kris drew his gun from where he'd been hiding it behind Adam but it was yanked from his hand and went flying off down the hallway. He felt invisible hands pull Adam from him and then they were both slammed against the wall.

"This was all so unnecessary," Riagán said, sighing. He reached up and stroked Adam's cheek. "This magic of yours, it has never done anything but cause you pain. You never wanted it. I understand that. All I wished was to take it from you."

"Stop touching him," Kris said, throwing himself against the forces holding him to the wall.

"I would have taken care of you," Riagán said, ignoring Kris entirely. "I told Inir to make sure they gave you everything you loved. The boys and the clothing and all of the theater you enjoy."

"You—you told them to do that to me?" Adam said.

"Of course." Riagán's smile was kind and almost beautiful. "You are my nephew. I will always want what makes you happy. I knew when you left Faerie both times that you understood your place. You always knew the magic didn't belong to you. It is not your fault that you inherited what should have been mine.

"All I wanted was my own space--the crown that should have been mine. Why should I be denied that by accident of birth? Eilín has Western Faerie—why should I not have my own empire if I were bold enough to create it? There are so many of us who have been too long denied. I saw no reason to be held back by the boundaries of old empires when there are so many human lands going to waste."

"It won't work. You're doing this for nothing," Kris said. He didn't think anything could get through to this psychopath, but he had to try.

Riagán frowned at him and silenced him with a gesture. "You know he does not care for you, don't you, Adam? None of them did. Shall I punish him for you?"

"No! No, please. You're right, he just doesn't understand."

Riagán looked back up at Adam.

"You don't have to kill him," Adam said, voice steadying. "You said you didn't want to hurt anyone. You could show them that they were wrong—that you were just trying to fix everything."

"He must die to release the binding spell," Bran said.

Adam shook his head. "No, Uncle, you have Liandra's magic. You're strong enough that you could break it yourself."

Riagán tilted his head. "And are you saying that is what you want?"

Adam took a shaky breath and nodded. "You're right—the magic doesn't belong to me. You—you should have it. I want you to have it."

"He's lying," Bran said.

"We will see," Riagán said. He made a gesture and Adam slumped against the wall.

Adam looked up at Kris, eyes pleading for understanding, and then he turned back to his uncle and held out his arm. "You should start now. I don't want it anymore."

Riagán patted his cheek, smile luminous. Adam shook a little under his touch but Riagán didn't seem to notice. He reached into his belt and drew out a dagger that shone with that unholy light from Kris's memory.

Kris threw himself with all of his will against the bounds that held him but he managed to only move his arm a few inches.

Riagán looked down at Adam's arm and frowned. "You are shaking."

"It's just the spell," Adam said, voice now horrifyingly steady. "It was difficult, last time."

Riagán nodded. "I would spare you if I could, but it will be over quickly, I promise."

He took Adam's offered arm and placed one cut and then a second. Adam shivered just like the last time, but just like that time he made no sound.

Riagán raised the blade a third time and it flew from his hand, burying itself in the wall beside Adam's head.

He turned with some fury up the hallway but froze when he saw Eilín standing there beside Niamh and Allison.

"Do not make me fight you," he said. "I mean no harm to anything you rule."

"I am not the one doing this," she said.

He bent his head and then nodded at the Shadow behind him.

Eilín raised her hands and a miniature sun appeared between them, flooding light as bright as day down the hallway. The Shadow shrieked and retreated to the remaining darkness that lingered in the doorway at the end of the hall.

"You cannot keep that up forever," Riagán said. "And it will weaken you."

"I do not need forever," she said. She sent the glowing light to the ceiling and drew her own sword.

She moved forward and he met her sword with his own. She advanced against him down the hallway and he fought back again, the both of them moving almost too fast for Kris to follow. Eilín scored her first hit along her brother's arm and Kris felt the spell holding him to the wall dissolve.

He grabbed Adam where he stood in shock against the wall and started to drag him towards Niamh and Allison.

"But my mother—and Baraz, we can't just leave them."

Kris's stomach clenched, but he really only had one priority. "They came here to make sure you were safe. We need to go."

"Not so fast, human," Bran said, appearing in front of them. He looked down the hallway to where his friend presumably still stood. "Come, Cadwell, between the two of us we can easily—"

He cut off and stared down in horror at the knife Kris had plunged between his ribs. Kris wrenched it to the side and then kicked him to the ground. He looked back over his shoulder but the other Sidhe just took one look at Eilín and then bolted off the other way.

Eilín and Riagán fought their way back down the hallway. Riagán's eyes narrowed when the saw Bran's body sprawled in Eilín's path and deliberately maneuvered her toward him. Kris tried to cry out in warning, but her boot caught on Bran's sprawled arm and she fell backwards.

Riagán lost no time in raising his sword, but then he stumbled backward and clawed at his back.

"I'm sorry," Adam said, pulling out the silver knife.

Riagán's confusion turned to anger and Kris dove for Adam, pulling him to the ground just as Riagán's sword arm came around. Riagán fell to the side, unbalanced, and then was slammed to the floor. Stone arms erupted from the ground and wrapped around his wrists and ankles, trapping him there.

Eilín stood over him, clutching at the deep wound in her side.

Kris forced himself back to his knees and pulled Adam against him. He pulled at the silver knife as gently as he could and Adam let him take it, turning his face into Kris's shoulder.

"You cannot mean to do this," Riagán said. "They will kill me for this, if you don't let me go."

Eilín fell at last to her knees. "I know."

~*~*~*~*~

Adam didn't talk the entire way back to the palace.

He'd let Kris bind up the cuts on his arm and had seemed at least responsive when Eilín and then Allison came to check on him. But his face had shuttered when Riagán started shouting threats as they'd chained him up and dragged him away. Someone had cast a silencing spell on him, but by then Adam had almost completely closed off.

He'd briefly startled out of it when Baraz made a small pained sound when they'd moved him and he wouldn't get in the stretch limo the others had stolen until they'd laid Baraz on the longer seat. After that brief flurry of activity he'd sat in the back sandwiched between Kris and Allison not looking at anyone. His shivering increased during the drive but became tighter and tighter as he curled in on himself.

Kris put an arm around his shoulders and Adam leaned into him, but Kris thought that was more from exhaustion than anything. He didn't really know what to do. It wasn't like there was an easy comforting cliché on hand for when your uncle paid a bunch of human monsters to turn you into their zombie sex toy and then called that love. He just kept his arm around Adam and hoped he could feel that at least.

Baraz himself was still unconscious but breathing. From what Kris knew of the Sidhe in general and Baraz in specific he should be able to recover from a wound even that serious, but it was still disturbing to see him lying there. The two Sidhe pouring magic into the wound had stopped the bleeding but Baraz didn't so much as stir.

When they got back to the palace the others unloaded the injured members of their party from the car but Adam just closed his eyes and turned halfway into Kris's lap.

Allison gave Kris a concerned look but Kris just shook his head. "I think we need a minute, okay?"

She bit her lip but nodded, pressing Adam's shoulder briefly before she slipped out after the others. Kris lifted Adam's legs more firmly across his lap and Adam relaxed into him with a sigh.

"Can we go home now?" Adam said into Kris's shoulder. "I mean—to your house? I don't want to be here anymore."

"We will—as soon as we can." Kris wanted that more than just about anything, but he didn't think the Sidhe were going to let Adam go anywhere. "You need for Megan to take a look at you right now."

Adam lifted his head, eyes painfully earnest. "I'm okay. I don't need that."

"You're not okay. I know you want me to believe that, but you're not," Kris said, hating himself for what he was about to say. "And we can check on Baraz—you want to make sure he's all right, don't you?"

Adam flinched hard at that, but it was the only thing Kris could think of to make him get out of the car.

"It'll just be a little while and then we can go somewhere quiet, I promise." Kris's last promise hadn't worked out too well, but Adam nodded and let Kris help him out the door.

Megan met them in the infirmary. The place looked like a giant indoor conservatory, with beds tucked in amongst the flowers and greenery. It smelled sweet and fresh and Kris felt his body relaxing further with every breath.

She led them to a bench near where a crowd of other fey were working on Baraz and handed Adam something steaming.

"It will counteract the rest of the Djoshiruk venom," she said. "By morning your own magic will start to return and we can work on the rest."

Eilín stood by Baraz's bed, getting a report from some functionary in white. A second servant hovered at her side, clearly distressed at the blood on her side, but she ignored them. After a moment she nodded crisply and then came over to sit by Adam's side.

She just looked at him for a long moment, eyes wet, but then she brushed his hair off his forehead and kissed his temple.

"You're hurt," Adam said.

"That is nothing for you to worry about," Eilín said. "I will be fine."

There was something hesitant about her manner that was completely at odds with her behavior from before.

"I wish that I could stay here with you, but I must return to Faerie tonight."

Adam's hand tightened a little in Kris's. "You're taking him back."

She moved her hand to caress his cheek and Adam leaned into it. "He is not going to be allowed any further chances at causing harm. The Council will rule tonight."

"I'm sorry," Adam said. "He's your brother and now you have to give him to them."

She moved her fingers to cover his mouth and he stopped. "By his actions he has shown that he has not been my brother for a very long time now."

She stood, dropping her hand with obvious reluctance. She bent down to kiss Adam's forehead. "I leave you in capable hands, I think. Please do us all a favor and listen to them for once."

"I always listen," Adam said, a little chagrined. A little color flooded back into his cheeks and Kris felt it safe to relax a little for the first time since he'd been taken.

Eilín shook her head. She gave Kris and then their linked hands a complicated, troubled look. "I will be back tomorrow as early as I can. Now please be sensible and get some rest."

She gave Adam's cheek one last caress and then she was gone.

~*~*~*~*~

Kris stirred, his body screaming protest at every movement. He rolled over, hoping to burrow into Adam's warmth, and then was jolted out of sleep entirely when Adam wasn't there.

He bolted out of bed, heart hammering in his chest. He'd shoved himself into his jeans and was half out the door to Adam's suite when he spied Adam on the couch in his sitting room staring off into the growing morning.

"Jesus, Adam," he said. "You scared the hell out of me."

Adam picked his head off of his bent knees but didn't turn. "I thought you'd stay asleep."

Kris settled beside Adam on the couch, not really liking the tone in his voice at all. "You should be in bed. Megan told you that you need to rest."

"You should go back to bed. I'll be in in a little while."

"I can't do that."

Adam's arms tightened around his knees. "I just need to be alone for a little while. Just a few minutes. I'll be in soon, I promise."

"In the last three days you were attacked, held hostage and poisoned and then I watched you offer yourself up to get carved up with a knife. I'm sorry, Adam, but I can't leave you alone." Kris knew Adam wasn't a great target for the anger he was feeling, but he'd been so damned worried and his relief tended to show itself in odd ways sometimes.

Adam just put his head back on his knees.

"What is it you're not telling me? They did something to you, didn't they? God, they hurt you somehow and you don't want me to know." They'd had him for three days. They could have done anything.

Adam grabbed Kris's hand. "No, _no_ it's nothing like that. I told you, they were . . . professional." The nauseating panic Kris still felt must have shown on his face because Adam turned completely towards him and grabbed his other hand, too. "They couldn't do anything with the Djoshiruk there. I was safe from . . . well from that at least."

Kris let out the breath he was holding. "Will you just tell me what it is? I'm not doing too well with the idea of any more mystery, here."

"I'm just so sorry." Adam's face crumpled but Kris kept a tight grip on his hands and he couldn't pull away again.

"Adam." He'd really thought they were past all of this.

"He tried to hurt you. And Baraz and my mother and . . . so many other people got hurt because of him."

"That's right," Kris said. "Because of _him_."

Adam looked at him, eyes desperate, but Kris still didn't understand what he needed.

"I just—I just don't want them to hurt him. I know they'll probably kill him and he deserves it, but I don't want him to be hurt." He shook his head and then wrenched one of his hands away to wipe angrily at the corner of his eye. "I know I should. He tried to kill you. I should hate him for that and I do—but I keep thinking if we explained everything to him, if we could just make him see his plan wouldn't have worked everything could be okay. I know that's stupid, but I can't stop thinking about what they're doing to him."

He blinked rapidly, wiping at his face again. He looked so damned _ashamed_.

Kris wanted to punch something. Repeatedly. Preferably Riagán and Inir and everyone else who'd ever touched him.

He swallowed hard, forcing the anger back down his throat. It made him feel better but it wasn't what Adam needed. He freed his hand and reached up to pull on Adam's shoulders. Adam resisted for a second but then collapsed against him, wrapping his arms tight around him. Words weren't Kris's area—he'd always been happy to let Adam do most of the talking, but he wasn't about to let Adam look like that for another second.

"I don't think there's anything you should be feeling right now." Kris didn't have any trouble basking in a nice comfortable hatred for the man, but this wasn't about Riagán, not really. "He's your family."

Adam started shaking a little, but Kris thought that was maybe okay. "They'll have to kill him. They probably did already. They'd forgive everything else but they'll have to punish him after he touched Liandra."

Kris thought it was probably more complicated than that, but making Adam see that Eilín was most concerned about what they'd done to him probably wouldn't help anything.

"You know that whatever they're doing to him he earned it, don't you?"

"I know. I hate that I'm being this way."

"Maybe you could try being a little more patient with yourself. Being able to see past what he did to you—it's more than I can do right now." Kris just tried to remember what Adam had done when he'd told him his stories of the war and ran his hand up and down Adam's back. After a while Adam stopped shivering and just leaned into him.

"Are you ready to go back to bed now?" Kris said.

Adam nodded against him.

Back in the bedroom Kris lay Adam back against the pillows and then circled his forearm with one hand. The night before the poison in his system had interfered with any healing spells they'd tried but now the gray lines were gone from his skin and Kris could feel the faintest spark of Adam's magic. It wasn't much but human spells relied less on internal magic than fey healing.

"I really need to take care of these, okay?" Kris said, tracing the marks the manacles had left on his wrists.

"Oh God, could you?" Adam said. "I want for all of this to be done."

Kris pulled Adam's shirt up and off and then straddled his thighs. His voice was a little rough after the night before and the bite marks resisted Kris's efforts for a long while. But the magic drifting in with the morning light was friendly and warm and Kris was prepared to take all day if he had to.

There were more bite marks than Kris remembered from the night before, but he didn't comment on it, just moved across Adam's chest until the last of them were eased away. He at last traced his fingers over the heavy bruise on Adam's cheekbone. He let his voice fall silent but kept his hands on Adam's face, stroking just a little with his fingertips.

He didn't know if it was the best thing for Adam right now, but he needed it so badly he was shaking with it and Adam was looking up at him so full of desperate want. He bent down and kissed him, soft, so Adam could pull away if he wanted to.

"Is this okay?" he said, pressing his forehead into Adam's.

"Yes. Yes, _please_. I just—I need not to think anymore."

Kris stripped himself and then Adam. Adam flipped them over almost immediately, but that was okay, that was _perfect_. He needed Adam's solid weight on top of him, Adam's body warm and smooth and unbroken right there for him to touch.

Adam rocked down hard, his desperation feeding Kris's. Kris just gave him his hands and his mouth and his body, gave him everything. He wrapped a leg around Adam and thrust up against him until Adam shuddered and came apart above him. He rocked up harder, rubbing against the jut of Adam's hip bone until the driving need inside of him hit its peak and he lost control completely.

They lay there together, both of them taking a while to calm down.

"I didn't know if we were going to get you back," he said, finally giving in to the terror that had lived underneath his skin ever since he'd seen the brownie in the market. "I thought we were going to be too late."

"I know, baby," Adam said. "Me too."

Adam just kissed him, mouth moving up along his jaw and then softly on Kris's closed eyelids. He curled at last into Kris's chest, his head nestled on his shoulder. Kris wrapped his hand around Adam's wrist and just held on. Adam fell back to sleep almost immediately, but Kris lay there for a long time feeling Adam against him as the morning sun spilled across the bed.

~*~*~*~*~

Kris slid his hand into Adam's as the healer packed up her things and headed down the path to the next bed. Baraz's color was better but he still seemed disturbingly fragile, laying there.

Adam reached out with his free hand and smoothed the wrinkled covers. "He'd hate it, being something less than perfect."

"It's going to take something more than that idiot Bran to kill him," Kris said. "You know that. He'll probably be annoyed with you for even thinking that it was ever a possibility."

Adam's lips quirked up and he relaxed a little. "That's okay. He enjoys being annoyed."

He looked a lot better than the day before, but he was still pale and a little wobbly on his feet and Kris really wished he'd go back to bed for a week or two.

"Are you ready to go home now?"

"So much." He turned towards Kris and slipped a hand under his t-shirt, stroking his hip just a little. "Just warning you, I think I might be a little clingy for the next week or so. Or maybe a lot clingy. I'm kind of a mess right now."

"That's okay," Kris said. "That fits pretty well with my plans to not let you out of my sight pretty much ever."

Adam's eyes crinkled up as he smiled. "I really like your plans."

"Yeah, I'm kind of a genius."

They turned to go and found Eilín standing on the path blocking their way.

Kris really didn't know what the etiquette was for greeting Sidhe royalty when they'd just caught you flirting with their son, but thought maybe calling further attention to himself wouldn't be the best idea.

"I need to speak with you," she said, gesturing at the bench where they'd sat the night before.

Kris sat beside Adam, stomach twisting. Eilín was wearing an open full skirted coat and tight pants in the same dark blue as earlier. With the bright swaths of glitter over her eyes and the elaborate coif held up by fluttering blue-black butterflies, she bore a stronger resemblance to Adam than Kris had seen before.

Eilín settled on Adam's opposite side and took his hand. "The Council came to a verdict this morning. They determined that Riagán should be subject to the same binding spell he would have enslaved you with. He will be sent to serve in Liandra's temple and his magic will be given back to the land." She searched his face, eyes pained. "They said that they would give you his death if you asked for it, but I told them it was not something you would desire."

Adam shook his head and looked down.

She patted his hand and then ran her fingers over the newly-smooth skin on his wrists. "It is not enough, not after what he did to you." She raised his hand to her cheek and turned her face into it, pressing a kiss into his palm.

Adam sat up straighter. "Mother, it's okay. See—it's healed now."

"It should never have happened in the first place. He should never have been allowed anywhere near you." She dropped his hand to her lap and took it with both of hers. "I let you come here because I thought you'd be safer. Every time I let you go it was to protect you and each time that failed."

Adam's hand went tight in Kris's. "It's not your fault. No one ever suspected him."

She nodded, though Kris didn't think that was because she agreed. "I have been talking with Eber and Laila. They have been very worried."

"I didn't tell them about any of this," Adam said. "I didn't want to upset them."

She made a small disbelieving sound. It was surprisingly human. "They are your parents, Ailill. Did you really think they wouldn't figure out something was wrong?" She patted the back of his hand. "They are waiting for you in the City. They simply want to see you."

Adam chewed his lower lip. "I want to see them, too."

She smiled at him. "The princesses are waiting there as well. Your sisters have been very unhappy with me ever since I let you move to LA and they are very impatient to have you back."

"I—I could visit them? Maybe tomorrow?"

Her lips set in a thin line. "You know I was not speaking of a visit. It is beyond time you returned to the City where you belong."

Kris bent partway over, the fragile hope he'd been feeling dissolving into dizziness.

"I don't belong there," Adam said. "I'm better here."

"If that is the lesson you have learned from being allowed to come here, then I regret ever granting you permission. You are my son. You belong with the rest of your family."

"I can't," Adam said, the sudden hope in his voice desperately painful. "I won't take him to the City. It's too dangerous for him there."

But Eilín only nodded as if she'd already thought of that. "That is true. And it would be poor thanks for all he has done for you."

She got up and knelt in the soft grass at Kris's feet.

"Mother, please don't do this. _Please_. You can't do this to me—not again."

She bowed her head but then looked up at him. "I am sorry that you feel that way now. But this will be kinder—for him especially."

She looked up at Kris, her smile gentle.

Kris could feel Adam's agitation beside him but somehow it didn't matter anymore.

"You have done me and my family a very great service." Her smile grew and his whole body glowed with the idea that he'd done something, anything, to make her happy.

"I would give you nearly anything, but I cannot give you Adam. He is my child and we have been too long separated. You can see that can't you?"

He wanted to agree with her, but something felt wrong. He looked down at where Adam's hand was clamped on his and frowned, confused. She laid her hand on top of his, drawing his attention back to her.

"You know what I am asking for is right, don't you? You will give him to me?"

Of course he would. He pulled his hand free of Adam's and gave it to her, happy only that he'd done as she asked. He wished that she would ask more of him, anything more, so that he might spend the rest of his life earning the smile she bestowed on him.

"You have made me very happy," she said. She bent forward and kissed his forehead and he felt something warm flow from his hands to hers. She pulled away gently and he felt the glow fade, leaving him dazed.

She got to her feet. "We will go now, Ailill. You may have a brief moment to say goodbye and then you will come with me to the portal hall and return to Faerie."

"No. I won't."

She let out a small sigh. "I understand you have been hurt and this is very difficult for you to understand, but you will see that this is for the best in time."

"I—I can't. I need more time. Please. I've never asked you for anything, not really."

"I know," she said. "I've never understood that about you." She looked at him and then at Kris where he still sat gasping on the bench. "Very well. I order you to spend seven full days in the presence of this human. On the morning of the eighth day you will return to this palace and allow yourself to be escorted back to the City. That is my final word on this."

She bent down and kissed him on the forehead. "We are your family and we simply want you with us. It should never have been otherwise."

He didn't answer and she turned to go. She paused at the start of the path, but then shook her head and walked away.

"I—I am so sorry," Kris said. "I didn't want to. I didn't mean it."

Adam pulled him into a hug and they just sat on the bench clutching at each other. "No, baby, no. It's not your fault. She's the Queen of Faerie—she is Faerie, really. No one could have resisted her, not when she was claiming something that belongs to her."

"But, Adam—a week." A week. It didn't even make sense in his head.

Adam just pulled him tighter and didn't answer.

~*~*~*~*~

Kris lay flat on his back, his hands buried in Adam's hair as he kissed his way down Kris's chest. They'd been in bed since the night before and his skin felt raw, almost painful, but they couldn't stop.

This was all of Adam he was ever going to have.

Adam stopped and lifted his head. God, why was he stopping? Stopping meant thinking and that was something Kris had been desperately been trying to avoid for hours now. He just wanted to live here, in this moment, with Adam still with him. That way he didn't have to think about the coming morning and how the sky was already beginning to lighten.

"I can't. Kris, I can't. I'm not what they want me to be. I'm just not."

Kris closed his eyes. He couldn't do this. A part of him had always known he might have to give Adam up, but he'd never thought it would be now. Not so soon.

"You have to," he ground out. "The spell will hurt you if you don't and I can't watch that. And you'll—you'll be amazing. You just have to be you. That's all anyone wants."

Adam made a choked sound and laid his head back on Kris's chest.

They didn't talk again after that.

After a while the brightness outside the window became too much to ignore. Adam dragged himself up and they both went to the shower, too exhausted to do anything more than touch each other.

Adam stood at last in the center of the room staring at their bed, at the remainders of the life they'd so stupidly planned on having together. But finally he nodded and turned to go. Kris clutched at his hand and they walked in silence out of the compound and to the alley next door where Adam had made the portal to the Sanctuary so many months ago now.

When Eilín had told them they only had a week it had seemed so short. Kris couldn't imagine what he was thinking now. A week seemed an eternity now. He'd give anything for another hour, another five minutes.

Adam touched the doorway and the portal flashed open.

When he kissed Kris one last time his lips tasted of salt. Kris put his hands on his face, just holding him there like he could change things, change everything, if he just held tight this time.

Adam stepped back, holding Kris's hand to his face with one of his own.

"Always, you understand?" he said, turning to press his lips to the curved inner space of Kris's palm.

Kris nodded desperately, unable to speak, and Adam dropped his hand.

Adam took one step backward and then another. His third step took him through the portal.

Kris stared at it for one eternal second, caught with the desire to just fling himself after. But then the portal blinked out and the moment was gone.

Adam was gone.

Kris stared at the empty space where he'd been for a long, long time. But it stayed empty and Kris at last stumbled out of the alley and went home.

~*~*~*~*~

Kris shifted through the cushions on the couch looking for the remote. One of the pettier downsides to Adam's departure was that the invisible servants who seemed to sweep in every day and tidy everything up were gone, too. Which meant when he came home the remote was wherever he'd put it that morning instead of sitting magically on the coffee table.

His fingers caught on something hard and sharp. He twisted his hand around, getting a tighter grip on it, and pulled it free.

And then had to sit down hard when he saw what it was.

It was one of Adam's bracelets. Things had gotten a little . . . energetic one day when making out on the couch had turned into something else altogether. He remembered the clasp breaking and how Adam had just pressed Kris's wrists down over his head when he'd tried to find it.

He'd been doing all right. At least enough so that when he told his friends he was surviving it wasn't a complete and utter lie. But then he'd find one of Adam's shirts, or a stray drift of glitter under the refrigerator from one of the kids' pictures, or now this shining silver chain and all of his carefully constructed walls would disappear like they'd never been there to begin with.

He thought, each and every time this happened, that the least Adam could have done if he'd had to leave was to take all of himself with him instead of leaving these little pieces behind to spring on Kris when he was least ready. Except that would mean that Kris would have nothing left of him and that thought was a thousand times worse.

Adam wouldn't have any of these things. Kris had never been to the Sidhe's legendary City. There would be none of these unquiet ghosts lying around to remind him of what had been. He thought that was maybe the worst part of all of this. Adam didn't belong in a place like that—a place that only made him feel diminished and alone. He wondered every day if they were treating him all right, if Adam was remembering that he himself was a hundred times better than anything the Sidhe could want him to be.

He didn't have to wonder if Adam had gone to see Riagán—or rather what was left of him. He just hoped he had been kind enough to himself to not go alone.

Kris took a deep breath and got up on unsteady legs to go and put the bracelet with all the other things. There was a box under the bed where he was keeping all of it—the stray pieces of clothing and the bottle of nail polish and even a few random specks of glitter. He wasn't really ready to deal with it yet, but he thought—hoped—that there might come a day when he was glad to have it.

He'd finished shoving the box under the bed when he was startled by a knock on his door.

He wasn't sure he wanted visitors and the temptation to just ignore it was strong, but the sound came again, precise and insistent, and he got up to answer it.

Baraz was standing on the other side of the door, Allison on one arm. Niamh stood beside him, lounging up against the porch railing.

"May we come in?" he said. Kris was so startled it took him a second to move aside.

"Allison and I have come to say our goodbyes," Baraz said. He spared Niamh a slight irritated glance. "I have no explanation for Niamh."

"Don't worry, it's not a personal failing," Niamh said, patting his arm. "No one else does, either."

"I thought you'd already gone back," Kris said. It had been almost two months now. It was long enough that the press was even getting over their deep depression over Ailill's sudden exit. Some of them had even resorted to reporting actual news.

Baraz followed Allison to settle himself on the couch. There was the slightest sign of stiffness when he sat down, though it wasn't anything you'd notice unless you'd seen him in better health. "I have returned a few times, yes. This move would be something more permanent."

Allison looked up at him. "I thought about staying. But I think he needs me more there."

Kris sat down beside her and took her hand. "Of course he does."

She threw her arms around him and hugged him hard. "I'll miss you so much."

"You can still visit, can't you?" He'd thought it was only Adam who was permanently barred from returning to LA.

"Of course I'll visit," she said. "But it isn't the same."

He couldn't really argue with that so he just hugged her tighter for a moment.

He looked up at Baraz. Baraz, for whom there really were no barriers of any significance, who could come and go as he damn well pleased anywhere in the world. It was hard not to resent him just a little for that, even if Kris was really grateful that Adam had people to look out for him.

"How is he?"

"He has recovered completely from the physical effects of his captivity. As for the rest . . the question is not so easily answered. He was very fond of Riagán."

It was about what Kris had been expecting. That didn't make it a whole heap easier to hear, not when he couldn't do anything about it.

Baraz tilted his head. On anyone else, Kris would have called the expression on his face hesitance. "I did present the case to Eilín that he would have an easier time perhaps if he had not been robbed of certain relationships that were dear to him."

Kris took a startled breath. "I—I don't know what to say to that."

"She was not in the mood to listen. To me in particular," Baraz said. "And in that I cannot judge her. Not after my failure with Riagán."

He was sitting with a precise erectness that was all too easy to interpret.

"I think there's enough blame on that score to go around," Kris said. "None of us suspected him, so you're going to have to deal with sharing the blame."

Niamh flopped down in the chair. "I still say they should have let me skin him. Sending him off to serve in the temple is too easy."

"In this at least, I agree," Baraz said. "But you know what it would have done to Ailill."

"He never did like our bloodier games," Niamh said, a little wistful. "I remember being like that, once upon a time."

Baraz gave Kris an assessing look. "He wanted for me to give you something."

"Adam?"

"He indicated that you are a musician of some talent." Baraz reached into his robe and pulled out a card. "If you will contact this office, they will be prepared to give you an audition."

Kris took the card, not sure if he wanted it. He understood what Adam was trying to do, but it felt too much like a pay out. Like the Sidhe were trying to just hand him some shiny new job as a consolation prize.

Baraz raised an eyebrow. "It is an introduction only. Anything that follows will be up to you. Pride has its use, but it is altogether too easily mistaken for honor instead of the foolishness it sometimes is."

Kris tucked the card into his pocket. "Not that you would know anything about that or anything."

"Altogether too much, I fear." Baraz stood and looked around. "The reasons for it eluded me initially, but having seen this place I believe I understand why Ailill was so grieved to have left it."

Kris swallowed sharply, unsure of what to say.

"We do have to go," Allison said, tightening her arm around his back. "They are expecting us in the City."

Kris got to his feet and offered Allison a hand up.

"I'm going, too," Niamh said, coming to stand beside them. "Everything's so boring here now that Ailill left." She flung her arms around Kris and gave him a brief kiss. "We had some good times together though, didn't we?"

"Sure," Kris said.

She sighed heavily and glared at Baraz. "I'll go and wait in the garden. Some people think it would be better to talk to you alone."

Her goodbye kiss wasn't quite as brief as the first one. "Be well, beautiful."

Allison gave him another long hug but then she followed Niamh into the garden.

Baraz waited until the door closed. "There was one final thing I felt honor bound to discuss with you before leaving. It is about Ailill's future."

"You're going to talk to Eilín." Kris paused, not wanting to actually say it out loud even if the slight apology on Baraz's face really could only mean one thing. "About him, about a betrothal."

"We need not establish anything so formal, at least initially. An understanding would suffice, I think," Baraz said.

"And do you think it's what Adam wants?"

"At the time I think very little could be further from what he wants. But we do not do things with human speed. He will have what time he wishes." Baraz tilted his head. "It will be easier for him. Once I have made my intentions known I am unlike to encounter any competition. I believe he shall be happy for the freedom from his more avaricious suitors at the very least."

Kris knew that was a good thing, but he wasn't really all that prepared to be happy about Adam being given to someone else no matter how informal the arrangement.

"Is there anything you wish for me to tell him?" Baraz asked.

Only a thousand things. Very few of them were anything he wanted to tell Baraz, though. "Just—that I want him to be happy. Whatever that takes."

Baraz took a final look around. "It has been an interesting experience meeting you, Mr. Allen. I hope you will believe it when I wish you well."

Kris raked a hand through his hair. "Interesting's a pretty good word for it. And, yeah, you too."

Baraz dipped briefly into one last bow and then he disappeared into the garden after the others.

~*~*~*~*~

Kris kept his eyes on his guitar as the last notes of his final song died away. It wasn't until the crowd erupted in the usual polite applause that he finally let himself look up and see the people who'd come to see him.

Two years ago there would not have been so many. It kind of surprised him that there were so many now. Lil sat next to Danny and Ron at one of the front tables, but Anoop had come with a few of his friends, and Matt had come out from behind the bar. Even Mike had taken the night off to come out.

He'd only played three songs and all of them covers. He'd planned to do one of the songs he'd been working on, but then the ending had changed on him and he wasn't prepared—yet—to bare that part of himself on stage. He had sung a few of his originals for the lady at Jive Adam had sent him to. They were older songs, things he'd written long before Adam, but she'd asked for him to submit a few songs for one of their new artists. He'd never imagined himself writing for other people, but it felt right for now.

He accepted the applause with a quick nod and took the stairs off the stage. Lil enfolded him in a hug, giving his cheek a brief kiss.

"That was beautiful, honey," she said. "I am so glad you invited us."

"I'm really glad you came," he said. "It meant a lot to me."

She backed up and took him by the shoulders. "Even if you wish it was someone else here with you instead?"

"No, not instead. Just. I wish he were here too."

Adam had been so excited about the idea—in the way only Adam could be. He wasn't going to pretend the empty space where Adam should have been hadn't been weighing on his mind all night. It had been hard, looking out at that sea of faces and not finding him there. He knew it would be harder yet to go home like he did every night to that big empty bed and the violently cheerful color scheme that now only seemed depressing.

But it wasn't the only thing he was feeling.

Lil gave him that worried look he was getting more than used to. He knew his friends all thought he was going to retreat back inside himself after Adam left. And there had been a few days just after when the thought had been pretty appealing. But he'd come too far from that space to just give up now. He wasn't the messed up survivor he'd been after the war. And at least part of the reason for that was standing before him.

"You really don't have to worry about me so much," he said.

She bit her lip, uncertain, but he just slipped his arm through hers. "I think I remember you saying something about buying me a drink."

"I did," she said. She pulled gently on his arm and he let her lead him to their tables where all of their friends were waiting.

~*~*~*~*~

Kris slipped out of the taxi and stood watching as it pulled away. The spring air was clear and on the hill in the distance the Sidhe palace glowed with the reflected light of the full moon above and the city below.

The place was largely empty now. The bright court had fled back to Faerie after Adam left and he didn't think they would soon return. He'd heard Eilín had sent a few minor nobles to oversee relations with the Triad, but none of them had names Kris knew.

He took a deep breath and walked up the sidewalk to the gatehouse. He wasn't in a real hurry to get back to his once-again empty house. Having his parents here for a week had been . . . overwhelming. He'd been too worked up to even pick them up at the airport, instead sending Lil and her husband.

All of that had seemed so stupid when he'd opened his door to find them on his porch.

He hadn't understood what he'd been so afraid of, why he'd thought seeing them again was so impossible even though he remembered how necessary that had seemed when he'd fled to LA.

He'd thought they'd be angry—he knew how hurt they'd been. But his mom had just wrapped him up in a hard hug, his father's hand tight on his shoulder. He'd found himself telling them almost everything. Not the worst of the war but everything after it—how very lost he'd been, how much it had killed him to come back to where everything was familiar except himself.

And he'd told them about Adam. He could tell they didn't really believe him until he'd shown them the bedroom with its window into the land of eternal spring. And there were the few pictures he had and the bracelet with its endless nights of falling stars.

"Oh, that poor boy," his mom had said. "His own family."

"I just worry about him so much," Kris said, miserable. Even now that it had been four months it was still the last thing he thought about most nights. "If this is what you felt like when I left—I'm so, so sorry. I didn't want to upset you—I just didn't—I didn't _know_."

"Oh, no, honey," his mom said, pulling him into another hug. "It's okay. Everything's all right now."

He knew it wasn't, that they weren't going to be getting over the last five years with any kind of speed, but he'd let her press his head into his shoulder. He'd needed so much for just something to be okay.

They'd stayed a week, mostly in Kris's house. Kris had dragged them to some of the tourist spots out of obligation, but it wasn't really Hollywood they'd come to see.

He knew they wanted him to come back to Arkansas, but as much as it surprised him he had a life here now. It wasn't one the Kris who'd gone off to college or joined the Division would have chosen, but it was his.

He punched his code into the gate and nodded at Ron as he passed. Ron gave him a weirdly excited look and Kris paused in the drive.

"Did something happen?"

"Uh, no, no—just a weird day. Did you get your parents to the airport okay?"

"Yes." The suppressed grin that kept trying to work itself onto Ron's face was maybe a little creepy. Kris bid him good-night and went off to his bungalow. He'd thought about hanging out with Danny for a bit but if people were going to be weird even his empty house sounded good.

Adam was standing in the kitchen dishing take-out onto plates.

Kris clutched at the back of the couch and locked his legs as the room spun around him.

He felt hands close on his arms and a voice as if from far away. Adam was looking down at him, eyes wide with worry. It was Adam's hands on him and Adam's voice saying his name.

Adam.

He tried to take a step forward but his legs gave out immediately. Adam clutched at him, but he stumbled under Kris's weight and they ended up sprawled on the floor.

Kris struggled upright and pressed Adam's shoulders hard into the floor, keeping him there.

"I told them not to tell you I was here," Adam said. "I wanted it to be a surprise." He swallowed hard and tilted his head. "Maybe not a good surprise? I shouldn't have just assumed. I should have—"

"Stop. Just—stop." Kris laid his hand across Adam's mouth and he stilled. He traced Adam's lips with his finger and then up over the shape of his cheekbones and jaw line. He was here. He was real. No one else could feel like this.

"Kris." Adam shivered beneath his fingers and Kris bent down to kiss him. He meant it to be soft, lingering, but it turned frantic almost immediately—the desperate starvation he'd kept so tightly leashed within him for months now clawing free.

"You left," he said. " _You left_."

He tore at Adam's clothes, the need to touch him an almost physical pain. Adam rocked up against him, making a surprised sound in his throat. He felt Adam pulling at his own shirt but just grabbed Adam's wrists in one hand and ground them back against the floor.

He'd told his friends that he was getting over this. Told himself that he could learn to live without it.

Adam wrenched one hand free and flicked Kris's jeans open. He slid his hand into Kris's boxers and wrapped him in a hard grip that bordered on real pain. Kris thrust helplessly into his hand, the climax building inside of him more biting need than pleasure.

"I've got you," Adam said. "I have you. I'm right here."

He sucked at Adam's collarbone and thrust harder as his whole body tightened up. Adam flipped them over and rolled down against the skin of his hip and belly.

"I'm not going anywhere," Adam said, lips against his jaw. "I'm here. I'm _here_."

Kris clutched harder at him, brain much too far gone to process any of this. He fisted Adam's hair, dragging his lips back to Kris's, and then just kissed him until Adam groaned deep in his throat.

Adam lay heavily on top of him, hands fisted into Kris's shirt.

"Oh, God," Kris said. He was shaking but he couldn't seem to stop. "You shouldn't be on the floor."

Adam's head popped up. "No, I needed that. I needed you."

He hadn't taken off his pants, just shoved them halfway down his thighs. Why hadn't he even taken off his pants?

"You shouldn't be on the floor," he said again.

Adam eased off the rest of his clothing, kissing each piece of bared flesh. Kris was half-hard and shaking again by the time he finished.

The sheets on the bed had been turned half down and there were roses everywhere.

"Kris," Adam said, uncertain, but Kris didn't want to talk. The last words he'd said to Adam in this bed had been to tell him he had to leave. He didn't want to know why Adam was here or when he'd have to give him back. He didn't want to have to think at all.

He knelt on the bed and pulled Adam down beside.

"You said you were here," he said, leaning in to press their foreheads together. "Just—be here. Please."

Adam nodded against him and tumbled Kris backwards to lie against the pillows.

Kris wrapped his legs up around Adam's waist and ground his heels into his back. Adam reached for the stand beside the bed, but Kris tightened his legs and held him there. "Now. Adam, now."

"I don't want to hurt you, baby. Just let me get you ready."

His hands were shaking as they opened the old tube of lube from the back of the drawer where Kris had been ignoring it. Kris could still feel the tremors in them as he reached between them and stroked a finger between Kris's cheeks. Kris wrapped a hand around his wrist, steadying him, and guided him inside.

He cried out and drove his hips down against Adam's hand, even the feeling of that one finger so much better than his own lonely ruthless touch had been for months and months now. Adam slid in another finger and moved them back and forth, but he was still being too damn careful.

"I'm ready. I'm ready—Adam, please. _Please_.

It hurt a little, but he wanted it to. Wanted to still be able to feel this tomorrow if he woke up once more to an empty bed beside him. Adam worked into him, hand stroking his hip as Kris struggled to remember how to relax and let this happen.

"Okay, baby?" Adam said, lips gentle against Kris's.

Kris nodded, fisting his hands in Adam's hair and keeping him there.

Adam rocked against him, pulling just a short way out before thrusting back in again. He shifted the angle until every thrust dragged against that perfect spot inside. Kris felt too broken open to even try to contain the sounds he was making. He wrapped his legs tighter around Adam and rocked down hard against every thrust, wanting Adam as deep as possible.

Adam scraped his teeth up Kris's neck, whatever control he'd had completely lost. It was too much to ever last, and Kris felt his orgasm hit him like a hard punch. He let his head fall back, cries silenced, as Adam pounded away at him. He felt Adam's muscles trembling as he fought to hold on, but then he groaned in Kris's ear and shoved in hard as he came. He held himself up on shaking arms as he shuddered through the aftershocks. Kris ran his hands up his arms and pulled on his shoulders until he allowed Kris to take his weight.

Kris closed his eyes and allowed himself to feel Adam still deep and full inside of him, the heavy warm weight of him, the brush of his lips against the side of his face as they lay there together.

It wasn't until much later that he was finally able to talk. Kris lay half sprawled across Adam's shoulder with Adam's hands running all over his body. He turned his face into Adam's shoulder, breathing in Adam's scent and the banked warmth of his magic.

"How?"

"She let me go," Adam said. His voice was thick and Kris had to at last lift his head and face him. Adam looked up at him, eyes wet. "She said she just wanted me to be happy.

"My dad talked to her. I guess he told her that I was his son too and I deserved to pick that if I wanted it. And so she let me choose."

"Choose what?" Kris said, not wanting to feel the hope blooming inside of him.

"She said I could set everything aside for a time—the title, my place in court, all of it if that was what I wanted."

"For a time? You have to go back?" He'd known he shouldn't have hoped too much. But he'd take it, if he could have Adam for another five months or even five minutes.

Adam took a messy indrawn breath. "For a human lifetime."

"Adam," Kris said. "Adam, it's too much. I can't let you do that. I _can't_."

Adam rolled them both onto their sides and wrapped himself around him. "I had to. You would have been enough, but it was so much more than that."

Adam pressed his forehead against Kris's, eyes wide and begging for understanding. "She was right. I had to go back. I hate that I had to leave you alone. I hated it so much. But I'd been running away from all of that for so long and I couldn't do that anymore."

Kris wrapped his arm up around Adam's shoulder and rubbed the back of his neck. "I know a little something about running away."

"It wasn't so terrible. It was different—or maybe I was different. I don't know. But there were some things I had to face."

Kris pushed the hair off Adam's forehead. "Tell me you didn't go see him by yourself."

"My mother went—and my sisters. They were pretty upset I went at all."

"You should have listened to them. Of course they were upset."

"No," Adam said. "I had to see him—I had to see what he would have trapped me into for myself."

He shivered a little and Kris tucked him in closer.

"And Baraz? He said that he was going to talk to your mother. About you." Even with that, even with all the reasons why he shouldn't, Kris was beginning to believe this was really happening. Impossible not to, with Adam lying there next to him, his body open to Kris's touch.

"It's not what you're thinking," Adam said. "He was just . . . marking his territory, I'd guess you'd say."

"You're not territory."

"I know it bothers you," Adam said. "But they'd never leave us alone, otherwise. There'd always be someone like Stefane thinking I was easy pickings without the protection of the court."

Kris had never thought about that. Those few weeks with Adam had been too filled with their joy of mutual discovery and the eternal low-level worry of who was after Adam for him to have had much space for other complications.

"It's too much," Adam said, pulling away a little. "I shouldn't have expected—being with me for a few months isn't the same as a lifetime commitment."

"What? No." Kris pulled Adam hard back against him. " _No._ I told you, there's no such thing as too much with you. We'll figure it out."

Adam relaxed against him and Kris let his hands wander down his side, over the sweep of his hip and thigh.

"So I guess what you're saying is that it's up to me now to keep you in the style to which you've been accustomed."

Adam smirked at him. "I have a job."

"You have a job."

"Simon Cowell has been trying to sign me to a recording contract for ages. He and Baraz used to fight about it all the time."

Kris stared at him. "Let me get this straight. Your job is 'rock star'."

"Baraz is working out the contracts right now."

"Baraz."

Adam raised an eyebrow. "He's my manager. That's his job."

Kris looked at him for another minute and then began laughing helplessly. Adam grinned at him and then kissed his smiling mouth.

"There's going to be a tour and everything. Simon says we can start talking about costumes next week. I want one of those capes that catch on fire."

"No," Kris said. "Absolutely not."

"Come on, it would be fantastic."

He ran a hand up Adam's side. "I have at least half-interest in this now and I'm applying my veto to any fire. Or explosions."

"Hmm," Adam said. "I could wear the wings, maybe." He nuzzled in against Kris's neck. "And maybe just a kilt—and then after the show you could be waiting for me in my dressing room. Naked."

"You're going to cause riots." Kris palmed the round curve of Adam's ass and stroked his fingers down the cleft. He could just picture it—Adam prowling around on stage flushed and half-naked. And then just bending him over and lifting his kilt, finding him bare and wanting underneath.

"I know! It's going to be awesome."

Adam hummed in pleasure and spread his legs a bit, giving Kris better access. "Simon thinks it will sell out immediately. It does make a pretty good angle—the whole Faerie Prince gives up his crown for love of music idea."

"And is that what you're going to tell everyone? That you gave it up for the music?"

"I'll have to," Adam said. "No one would ever believe the real story."


End file.
